Soldier
by seashell118
Summary: Bella Black has issues: her brother is dead, her parents are divorced, and her boyfriend is in Afghanistan. To top it all off, something strange is brewing, and it's centering around the mysterious Dr. Cullen and the Quileute tribe. T for language.
1. Surprises

_You see, Bella, I was always _that boy_. In my world, I was already a man. I wasn't looking for love—no, I was far too eager to be a soldier for that; I thought of nothing but the idealized glory of the war that they were selling to prospective draftees then…"_

_- Eclipse, 276-277_

**Disclaimer: Nope, I'm not Stephenie Meyer, and Twilight isn't mine.**

**This story is dedicated to Free to Imagine. Without her support, this would still be a measly file on my hard drive. Thank you!  
**

_

* * *

  
_

Everyone was staring.

I didn't blame them. I would be staring, too, if the situation were reversed. The new girl from the big city, daughter of the police chief's estranged wife, returning home to Forks at last.

If my family life was made into a soap opera, it would be a hit. First there's my dad, Charlie, who used to live on the Quileute Reservation with the rest of his family. He moved into Forks when he married my mom, Reneé. The whole tribe got pretty pissed at that one, but my mom was happier being in town, and my dad was happier when she was happier. But then the whole Jacob fiasco happened, and I ended up moving to Phoenix with my mom—and my dad stayed here in Forks. Now my mom was getting remarried, and I was back.

It was raining, of course. I tried to focus on the little splatters of water running down the window than face the curious eyes around me. It was my first day starting my senior year at Forks High School, and I already thought I was going to go insane. I only hoped it would get better when my peers got over the novelty of a new student and left me to my own devices. That's how I preferred to be: alone.

I've never found that one person, that friend or boy that completely understood me and I could be myself around. If I was being completely honest, I didn't really relate to people as a whole. Even my mother and I weren't completely in sync, though I was closer to her than any other person I knew. The last person I had been close with was Jacob… but I didn't want to dwell on that right now. I played with my hair, wrapping it around my finger, to distract myself. I wasn't as dark as my dad, though my skin still had a russet tint to it. My eyes and hair were both chocolate brown, like my mom's, but my hair was thick and straight like my dad. It was an odd combination. I'd never found a place to fit in-- even physically.

"You're the new girl, Isabella Black, right?" a voice spoke, jerking my out of my thoughts.

"Bella," I corrected the boy with a sigh. It seemed that Charlie had been calling me Isabella behind my back, a name I detested with a passion. Ever since I had learned to speak, I proclaimed that I was Bella, not Isabella.

"I'm Eric Yorkie," the boy said with a smile, extending his hand. I shook it and smiled feebly back.

"Where's your next class?" he asked me cordially.

The bell rang then, and I pretended I didn't hear him as I got up to leave. Saved by the bell—how cliché.

Maybe I was being ridiculous, I thought to myself. Would it kill me to make an effort to have a full conversation with someone? I wasn't sure of the answer. Not any more, at least.

They weren't interested in me as a person. They were interested in the half Native American girl whose family had been the subject of town gossip for years. They were interested in who they thought I was.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur, more ignoring of faces and names. I could already feel them getting bored with me, and for that I was grateful. I didn't like being the center of attention.

I sat alone at lunch, perfectly content with the way the day was going. If things kept going this way, my classmates might start to leave me alone sooner than I had hoped.

I was half-smiling, poking spaghetti around my plate with my fork, when a chair scraped across the linoleum floor. I looked up, surprised, as a rather attractive boy with emerald green eyes sat down across from me.

"Hi," he said a bit uncertainly. "I'm Edward Masen."

I nodded. "Bella."

"So you're the new girl, huh?" he asked.

"Obviously."

"Where are you from?"

"Arizona."

"How are you liking Forks?"

I sighed, folding my hands together, pulling together a sentence that didn't consist of one word. "Look, I don't know why you want to talk to me so badly, but just don't. I'd rather be alone."

My words did not have the effect that I planned. Instead of getting upset or flustered or hurt, he merely cocked his head, frowning. Then he shrugged and left.

I pushed him out of my mind the moment he was out of my sight.

They all thought they were being nice, every one of these exceptionally pale teens crammed into this school. They thought that by grilling me we could become best of friends. If they thought of more imaginative questions, then maybe things would turn out differently. Maybe I would actually be interested in the conversation. As it was, they were all the same.

I hummed quietly to myself until the bell rang, signaling me to go to my next class. I tossed my now empty plate into the trash and gathered up my books.

"Need any help?" a hopeful voice asked. I looked up to see a cute blonde boy standing right in front of me.

"No, thanks though." I started to walk off, but to my increasing annoyance, the boy followed me.

"I'm Mike."

"Okay."

"You're Isabella, right?"

"Bella."

"Where are you going?"

"Biology."

"Me too!" He sounded positively delighted by this fact, and I did my best to repress a sigh. These people got so worked up on trivial things.

He chattered all the way to Biology, and I did my best to tune him out. I walked into the classroom, completely oblivious to whatever the annoying boy was telling me, and introduced myself to the teacher. He sent me to the only empty seat in the class—next to Edward Masen, the boy I blew off in lunch. He did not give any hint that he was aware of my existence, and that was fine with me.

The teacher, Mr. Banner, was handing out slides and microscopes for the lab we would be doing today: placing slides of cells in the various stages of mitosis in order. It was easy enough. I had already done this lab back in Phoenix.

Edward, it appeared, was competent enough, and completed the lab with me without difficulty. He only spoke the answers, never questions or pleasantries, and I didn't mind in the slightest. That was fine. The downside to our efficient work was the amount of time we had to spend in awkward silence.

"You never did tell me how you like Forks," he said after a while.

I stared at him blankly. Did he seriously want to make conversation with me… after I blew him off? That was a first.

"It's wet," I answered before I could get my jumbled thoughts together. I wouldn't have answered at all, normally, but his cordial demeanor threw me off.

"Yes, it must be a harsh change, being from Phoenix, and all."

I shrugged. "It sucks. But what can I do?"

"Why did you move here if you don't like it?" Edward asked, and I could hear real curiosity in his voice. He was asking because he was interested, not just because he wanted to talk to the new girl. Again, this was a first, and again, I answered without thinking.

"My mom got remarried." I shut my mouth before going on.

"So she sent you here?" Edward asked, his brow creasing over his piercing green eyes.

"No, no," I said hurriedly. I didn't want him to think badly of my mom, so I went on. "I came of my own free will. She deserves some time to be happy, after all."

"She's not happy with you?"

"Not really."

I could see he was making judgments again, and I continued in a rush.

"My brother died a few years ago. It kind of tore my entire family apart. My parents got divorced, and I chose to live with my mom in Phoenix rather than stay here in Forks. But when she married Phil, I decided to come back."

"Why?" There was no pity in his voice, and he didn't try and pretend to empathize with me. This was yet another change. Usually people get sidetracked with the whole 'dead brother' thing and move into a flow of apologies and condolences.

"I could see it in her eyes every time she looked at me. I look a lot like my brother did, like my dad still does. And she can't help but be reminded of him, and when she thinks of him she gets unhappy." I shrugged. "I didn't want her to be unhappy."

"So you sent yourself here?"

"Yeah."

He stared at me, his gaze intent on my face. I didn't look away: I could handle a challenge. Eventually, he spoke.

"You miss your brother a lot, don't you?"

I didn't bother to ask how he could have guessed this so easily. He was just full of surprises.

"Yes," I said simply, but my tone held it all; my grief, my longing to see my brother. "He was young. I mean, he was older than me, but he was young."

"How old was he?" Edward asked softly.

"Nineteen."

"What was his name?"

"Jacob." I felt my heart fracture just saying the name out loud. Jake and I had always had a special bond… when he died it was the end of my world. That's when I realized that everyone would hurt you in the end, even if they didn't mean to. Everyone would leave, even if they didn't have a choice. Everyone would always let you down, even if it wasn't up to them.

So, I acted with preemptive measures: I stopped letting people in. It had worked beautifully so far. No more hurting. The only side affect was the loneliness, though I was learning to live with that. It was much easier than the alternative.

Edward's features softened as he watched my expression change according to my inner turmoil.

"What happened to him?"

"He was in the army. He was killed overseas during the war."

Edward's face seemed to have a spasm, but before he could respond, Mr. Banner turned on the projector and called the class to order. I sighed, placing up my mental barriers again. What was I doing? Why was I explaining my life story to this boy? Why was I talking about Jacob?

It was madness.

He didn't get a chance to start another conversation during class, and I left swiftly as the bell rang before he could speak.

The last period of the day was gym. I seriously considered skipping the one class that was not the optimal choice for a world class klutz, but I decided against it. Not my first day, anyway. They didn't make me play volleyball, the sport the class was playing, and I got to sit on the sidelines. At the end of the day, I practically ran to my truck, determined to get out of there as soon as possible.

The red Chevy truck was ancient, of course. Jacob loved to work on old cars and had rebuilt this one especially for Charlie right before he went off to war. Charlie gave it to me as a homecoming present. I almost cried. Almost.

Driving home was hard. My head was so wrapped up with my conversation with Edward… he seemed so different from everyone else I had ever met. It was confusing to say the least. I shook my head, trying to shake away my thoughts, as I pulled into the driveway to Charlie's house.

* * *

**What do you think? I know it's kind of weird imagining Bella as half Native American when in the books it was drilled into our heads: pale, brown eyes, brown hair; but it gets easier.**

**Tell me what you think! There's a whole green button, yours for the clicking!  
**


	2. Stupidity

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the real Twilight. I'm just playing around with this version of it.**

I hung my rain jacket on one of the pegs just inside the front door, frowning as I realized there was one jacket too many. Did we actually have a visitor?

"Charlie?" I called out. My dad didn't mind that I called him Charlie now. We were strangers. I would no sooner walk up to a random person on the street and call him "dad" than I would my own father. That's what death does to people. It makes them unknown, alien creatures.

"In here, Bells," Charlie called out. "I gave your uncle a ride over so that he could say hi."

"Uncle Billy!" I cried as I entered the kitchen, my dripping jeans making wet marks on the white-tiled floor. I would never get used to this rain.

"Hello, Bella, good to see you. It's been years," Billy said in his deep, gravelly voice.

I translated what he meant in my head: _Good to see you, Bella. I haven't seen you since your brother died._

Billy hadn't changed much since I'd last seen him. There were a few more wrinkles on his face and his black hair was streaked with gray, but other than that he was pretty much the same. He still had dark eyes that seemed to radiate youth despite the crippled body, and his wheelchair was just as fragile and rickety as always.

After exchanging a few pleasantries and a bit of light conversation, Charlie rolled Billy into the living room where they started watching a sports game. I busied myself in the kitchen, preparing tonight's meal.

"Are you staying for dinner, Uncle Billy?" I called, leaning back from the counter so that I could see into the living room.

"If I'm welcome."

""Course you are, big brother," Charlie said, walloping him good-naturedly on the back. I smiled and resumed my work. Three places then.

"You really don't have to make dinner, Bella," Charlie called to me.

I laughed loudly. "And what would I do then- subject myself to your meal-making skills? I'm not in the mood to torture myself. Maybe some other time."

Charlie started muttering to himself, and even from the other room I could tell he was blushing.

Dinner was simple that night due to my lack of creativity: steak and potatoes. My mother could have made a feast out of the scraps in Charlie's refrigerator, but, then again, I was not my mother. She was different in many ways than I; she was more outgoing and less standoffish, and her mind seemed to be more childlike than mine. I loved her dearly despite our differences, and I knew she felt the same.

It was great to see my uncle and it was even better to see my dad happy after such a long time, but I was thankful when I crawled into bed that night. I needed a few hours of unconsciousness. Unfortunately, the rain made it difficult to fall asleep quickly, and I was left tossing and turning for hours.

Due to my lack of sleep, I was almost late to school in the morning; I sped my decrepit truck down the high way until it was safely in the parking lot for Forks High. I sighed as I got out of the warm cab into the frigid rain.

I saw Edward Masen standing by the cafeteria building talking to Mike Newton, the blonde boy that had annoyed me to no end yesterday. Without stopping to think what I was doing, I raised my hand and waved hello. I blushed immediately, feeling like a complete idiot. He didn't wave back; he must not have seen my burst of idiocy, thankfully.

In lunch I sat alone again, wondering why I stared at Edward Masen's table with increasing frequency. His eyes didn't meet mine no matter how long I stared at him, and this made me uneasy. It felt deliberate, as if he were ignoring me. I hadn't done anything to him, though. I must have been misreading him.

It was only in Biology that I realized that Edward Masen had no intention of ever talking to me again.

He sat in a rigid, angry posture: his hands clenched, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair, angled away from me. Had I unintentionally offended him?

"Are you okay?" I asked him quietly.

He turned his head a fraction of an inch toward mine and, without meeting my gaze, gave a terse nod. That was it.

I felt ridiculously stupid, of course. Why was he ignoring me? What did I do? I was hyperaware of him, sitting so close to me and yet feeling as if he were miles away. Was this his normal behavior? Did he often have mood swings such as this? I ran over our conversation yesterday in my mind, though I could find nothing out of the ordinary besides that strange facial spasm when I mentioned that Jacob was killed at war. It didn't make sense.

It was only when I was back in the safety of my truck after a disastrous gym period—Coach Clapp made me play volleyball and, although the accidents were not inflicted intentionally, people were starting to glare—that I realized that the answers to my questions didn't matter, it was the fact that I cared whether he ignored me or not that mattered.

Despite my absolute mental barrier toward everyone I came in contact to, this boy seemed to have slipped under my shield and slid his way into my mind. I had allowed myself to become vulnerable, and now I was paying the price. Hadn't I told myself a million times before? People will always let you down.

My depression had transformed into anger by the time I reached my house. How dare he? He was being completely and utterly childish with his behavior. He had absolutely no right to act this way without a reason.

Charlie was at work today, and Billy was back on the reservation, so I started making dinner in solitude. Just pasta tonight—I wasn't in the mood to put much effort into the meal. The phone rang as I was placing the noodles into the boiling water, and I yanked it off the hook on the wall, cradling it between my ear and my shoulder as I stirred.

"Hello?"

"Bella?"

"Angela?" I cried, waving the wooden spoon in the air as I did a little happy dance. Angela was my very best friend from Phoenix, and I hadn't seen her in a few weeks. It was great to hear her voice.

"Bella! How are you?"

"I'm good, how are you? How's Phoenix?"

She laughed. "Oh, it's the same. I hear it's raining in Forks. What a shocker!"

I giggled at her joke, and we started catching up. Apparently, Angela had met a boy named Ben Cheney, and she really liked him but wasn't quite sure how to approach him. Angela had always been very shy, but she had always been very perceptive, too. It was one of the reasons I loved her so much: when she realized I didn't want to talk about Jacob, we didn't talk about it.

"So how are the boys in Forks?" Angela said hastily, hating to have her lack-of-relationship put on the spotlight.

I hesitated, and Angela immediately picked up on that.

"What's his name?" she asked, sighing, though I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Edward Masen. It's not that I like him," I tried to explain. "It's just that yesterday he was very nice and he really seemed to _get_ me, you know? And then today he avoided me like the plague. He wouldn't even talk or look at me."

"Maybe he's shy."

"No, I don't think that's it. He's just stupid," I grumbled, turning the heat down on the stove.

Angela sighed. "Well, the only thing I can think of to say is that if he really means something to you, don't let him go. If you don't care, like you say you don't, then it really shouldn't matter what he does, right?"

I childishly stuck my tongue out, though Angela couldn't see that.

She sighed again. "You're sticking your tongue out at me, aren't you?"

"Nuh-uh!" I protested.

"Yeah, yeah. Right."

After a few more minutes of conversation and pouring the boiling hot water and pasta into a colander, Angela and I said our goodbyes, and she promised to call me again soon. I sighed as I hung up the phone on its place on the wall.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. Charlie and I weren't exactly champion chatterers, but the silence wasn't quite awkward. It was nice, actually, to not have someone grilling me for once.

As I was falling asleep that night, Edward's face popped into my mind. Why was he being so stupid? Nothing about this made sense. But I didn't have a chance to think about it for long because there was no rain tonight, and I fell asleep quickly.

**Reviews would be awesome!**


	3. Spell

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. **

**

* * *

  
**

I expected Edward to continue to ignore me. I was wrong.

The fact was, he didn't even show up to school.

I told myself that it didn't bother me. I told myself that it was stupid to worry about this boy. I told myself that. But I couldn't believe the lie.

And as I ate lunch, alone again, and stared off into the room full of happy teenagers, I realized that I was unhappy. It was more than just missing Jacob and my mom; it was more than just leaving my friends back in Phoenix and being the new girl in an unfamiliar town. No, for the first time in my life, I was lonely.

Loneliness was never one of the problems I had to deal with. I enjoyed being alone. I reveled in it. But this was different. It was like losing something that I never even had in the first place… losing a friend… losing Edward.

Which, I told myself over and over again, was completely and utterly ridiculous. How could I miss someone I barely even met? We had all of two conversations, one where I snapped at him. But when he didn't show up to school… for the first time in a long time, I realized that I actually cared what someone else thought of me.

Just one someone. Edward Masen.

And whenever I thought of his tousled bronze hair or incredible emerald eyes, an unfamiliar feeling bubbled in my stomach, accompanied by a longing to see him. I didn't understand any of this. It was all knew to me, and I had no idea if it was even a normal reaction or not.

I endured Biology alone for days, trying to grow accustomed to the tedium and getting exponentially angrier when I was crushed each day when he didn't walk through the doors to sit next to me.

I didn't care. I couldn't care. I shouldn't care.

But the fact was, I did care.

I sighed as I walked through the doors to the cafeteria yet again. By now, the good students of Forks had learned their lesson and started to leave me alone and gave me the solidarity that used to grant me comfort. I was heading toward my usual empty table when I realized that there was someone already sitting there.

I'm not going to lie—I was angry. Everyone recognized that it was _my_ table. No one dared cross the line where Bella Black, bitch extraordinaire, ate lunch alone. So why did this stranger feel the need to aggravate me?

When I recognized the stranger, I almost turned around and walked away. Of course I recognized him. How could I not? He had been haunting my dreams for the past week and a half. Despite my constant mental barriers, I couldn't seem to get him off my mind.

But if he thought I was going to show him that I was relieved, then he was wrong.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Edward haughtily as I sat down across from him.

He shrugged. "I wanted to apologize."

I narrowed my eyes into a scowl. "You don't have anything to apologize for," I lied as my heart stuttered and spluttered away into a disjointed rhythm.

"I believe I do, as a matter of fact." He lifted his gaze to meet mine, and I was rendered silent by the incredible intensity of his eyes.

"Mmm," was my genius response.

I pulled out a bottle of lemonade from my brown paper lunch bag, the only thing I felt that I could stomach. I flipped off the cap, and he caught it between his pale fingers, spinning it like a top. I watched this, transfixed as his hands gracefully picked up the piece of metal mid-spin and tossed it between his hands.

"I'd like to apologize," he said again. "I know I was very rude the other day, and I'm sorry."

I shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't even notice."

He smirked. "Right. Mike told me you were wallowing."

Dammit! I hadn't realized that Edward would get that vile Mike Newton to watch me. Wait….

"So, you were spying on me, huh?" I asked, eyebrows raised.

Now it was his turn to be uncomfortable. "I, well," he mumbled, blushing deep red. I watched this with smug satisfaction. He took a steadying breath and then his words came out in a rush. "I know, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm rude, and I'm sorry that we can't be friends."

That was a blow.

"Excuse me?" I gasped. So now we couldn't even be _friends_? It's not like I was expecting anything more.

… Right?

"I…" Edward started, but he trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Fine," I said hotly, my anger getting the best of me. "Fine, we won't be friends. I don't know why you even bother. I mean you should've just left me alone from the beginning if you didn't want to talk to me."

He looked surprised by my little rant. "You think I don't want to be friends with you?"

"That's what you just said!"

"I said that we couldn't be friends, not that I didn't want to be."

"Well, thanks for clearing that up for me, because I'm sure that makes sense in some twisted way."

"Bella, you realize how childish you're being, right?"

"Me?" I gasped, my hands clenching into fists. "I'm not the one that's coming up with these stupid cryptic statements trying to annoy the hell out of someone!"

"Oh, will you please listen to me Bella? I want to be friends with you. I'd like to be more than friends with you. But I can't, and that's what I'm trying to say."

I stopped listening after _more than friends_.

He sighed, apparently not realizing how incredibly monumental this moment was to me.

"I don't want to hurt you, and I know that there is a very good chance that I will, and I refuse to do that to you, not after you lost your brother."

He wasn't making any sense. "What do you mean?"

Edward sighed. "Bella, I…."

Again with the cryptic statements. I cleared my throat loudly, looking at him with an expectant expression.

"Bella, I signed up for the army. I finished my special training over the summer, and I get deployed in two weeks." He looked down. "I know that you lost your brother in the war, and I… I know there is a very real possibility that I might die fighting for my country." He looked up at me. I was frozen as a statue, though I couldn't deny the fact that there was grief beyond words in his eyes.

"You… no."

He just nodded slowly, not speaking.

No! Was this war going to consume everyone I loved? First Jacob, and now Edward? I barely knew him, and yet I felt an otherworldly connection flowing between us, the likes of which I'd never imagined.

And he was going to die.

It wasn't a possibility, it was an inevitability. I'd seen it in action. I've lived it. And I couldn't live it again.

But then again….

"Edward, I want to be friends."

"But--."

"No buts." I sighed, fumbling through my head for the right words. "I didn't like it when you were away. It made me… anxious. I'd rather not stay away from you for the little time that we have."

He was looking at me strangely, a mixture of relief and unease.

"I'm sorry that I left, then," he murmured.

"Where were you?" The question slipped out before I'd given myself permission to ask it, though I wanted to know the answer all the same.

"Visiting my father."

"Where does he live?"

His expression twitched, though only for a second. "He is in Chicago."

I nodded. "My parents are separated, too."

"Not in the same way, I think," he whispered, and for a moment I wondered if he was talking to me or himself.

The bell rang then, interrupting my thoughts. I stood up, and Edward frowned as he glanced disapprovingly at my brown paper bag, still packed with my uneaten lunch.

"I'm sorry, I've kept you from eating."

"I don't mind," I said honestly.

It's usually pretty obvious when I'm telling the truth, so I wasn't surprised when Edward nodded after he scrutinized my expression.

"Alright. Off to Biology then."

As we walked together to the Biology building—nearly an inch apart, and the electricity flowing between us was almost tangible—my heart started up on its quickened rhythm again. I couldn't understand my own reactions.

"We're blood typing today," Mr. Banner announced as Edward and I made our way through the door. He held it open and let me pass first, and I blushed at his chivalry. He blushed in response to my blush, making me deepen in color. It was just one regular blush-fest.

"Blood typing?" I murmured under my breath to Edward, who smirked.

"What, does blood make you sick?"

"No," I answered, but my voice cracked, calling out my lie.

As Mr. Banner explained how the process was supposed to occur, I felt my stomach getting queasy. I held my breath as he skewered Mike Newton's finger in front of the whole class.

"Bella, are you alright?" Edward asked, worry evident in his tone. I could only nod, not trusting myself enough to speak.

I placed my head on the cool surface of the lab table. I heard Edward call out to Mr. Banner, but my head was so dizzy that it felt like I was hearing things while submerged underwater; nothing was clear.

I felt sturdy arms helping me up and supporting me out the door, but I couldn't seem to understand why. What was going on? My head was still spinning like the lemonade cap at lunch, and I couldn't seem to slow it down.

"Bella," Edward whispered in my ear as we slowed to a stop outside. I knew it was outside; I could feel the rain on the back of my neck. It was the way he said my name that woke me up—it was smooth, almost like a caress. I felt myself blush, and as the blood rushed to my cheeks the dizziness was soothed slightly.

"Sorry," I murmured, closing my eyes. He pulled me into his warm chest, and I didn't pull away.

"Are you alright?" he asked breathlessly, brushing my hair delicately with his fingers.

"Mmhmm," I answered, focusing on breathing in and out while my face was pressed against his neck. My stomach was queasy again—though in an entirely different way. A good way.

"I don't believe you," he countered, pulling my head back slightly so that he could see my face.

A sharp jolt shot down the center of my very being as he stared intently in my eyes. It was a feeling that was very nearly pain, though, like the feeling in my stomach, not a bad one. My fingers trembled slightly.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he breathed.

I nodded. He placed the back of his hand to his forehead, then placed it on my own. My breathing hitched as his fingers made contact with my skin.

"I don't think you have a fever," he murmured, as I stood there, transfixed.

As he pulled his fingers away, he let them trail down my cheek for an endless second.

"I'm not sick anymore," I told him honestly.

He smiled a crooked smile. "I'm glad."

"Thanks for getting me out of there," I said, blushing again.

He said nothing, just gently brushed his fingertips along mine. I gasped quietly as the passionate electricity shot through them.

"Maybe we should go to the nurse, just in case."

"I don't think that's necessary."

"Humor me."

I started to shake my head, but he just took his arm and wrapped it around my waist, towing me in the direction of the office building.

I shrugged, letting him lead me. I was hopelessly under his spell.

* * *

**In case you're interested, I just wrote the real Biology scene from Jasper's point of view in my story My Brother, the Idiot. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Reviews are welcomed!  
**


	4. Subtle

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer is uber cool for writing and owning Twilight. **

"This is completely ridiculous," I grumbled, folding my arms tightly across my chest.

Edward sighed. "It's for your own good."

"Hmph," I snorted, turning my face away from his gorgeous one.

The school nurse at Forks High was completely incompetent and had no idea how to even begin to treat someone who fainted. I swear to God, she tried to stick a Band-Aid on my forehead before Edward whisked me out of there.

Which was great! I had absolutely no desire to stay in that stuffy nurse's office that smelled like a mixture of disinfectant and latex gloves. But no. This overprotective fool had to drive me all the way to the _emergency room_ to make sure that I was alright. If Charlie got wind of this—and I was sure he would, in a town this small—I was going to kill Edward.

I was sitting on a leather bed covered in crinkly paper that announced my every slight movement to the world with a loud scrunching sound. We were waiting in a small examination room for the doctor on call, and when we he finally pronounced that I was fine, we could leave. My heart suddenly thudded with anxiety—would Edward bring me home? Would he let me spend more time with him?

As if he could read my thoughts, he was standing behind me, wrapping his arms around my torso.

"Please, _please_ be good," he whispered seductively into my ear. I shivered; I couldn't help it—his warm breath was tantalizing. I turned around slowly—_crinkle, scrunch—_to meet his gaze, which seemed to be smoldering. It made me swoon slightly.

But there was something else in his sparkling emerald eyes that drew me in—some sort of message that he was trying to convey. I sucked in my breath; my heart was fluttering at top speed.

"Bella," he whispered, placing one of his warm hands on my collarbone. I shuttered, my eyes closing.

I opened my mouth to say something in return, but at that moment the door behind us opened.

Both of us blushed furiously as the doctor walked in. I tried to gasp, and ended up making a sort of choking sound; I'd never exhaled that breath I had inhaled before. Blushing even more and feeling like a complete idiot, I stared at the doctor some more.

There was a sort of aura of calmness, serenity around him that I couldn't quite comprehend; his skin was paler than even Edward's—come to think of it, I couldn't think of anyone who had skin that pale. He was absolutely stunning, more gorgeous than any movie star that I'd ever seen.

His eyes were a strange color: a sort of tawny yellow.

"Hello," he said serenely. "My name is Doctor Cullen."

"H-hello," I stammered back. Edward's eyes narrowed. As the doctor flipped through some pages on a clipboard, I shrugged, trying to tell him: _hey. I'm only human._ He still wasn't pleased.

"So, can you tell me what happened, Miss…?"

"Black, Bella Black. I fainted in Biology. We had a blood typing lab," I admitted sheepishly.

"Ah, I see. Does this happen often?"

The doctor's voice was soft, musical; inhuman. I shook my head against these thoughts.

"It doesn't happen?" Dr. Cullen inquired.

"Er, no," I said hastily, trying to rectify my mistake. "It happens… well it happens quite a lot actually." Chagrin colored my face tomato red. Edward snickered in the corner, and I glared at him.

"I'll just take your temperature, make sure everything is alright," the doctor promised, pretending not to see the quick exchange but something told me that he had. Was it the slight smile on his face? Or the knowing look in his tawny eyes? I wasn't sure. Maybe both.

He fiddled with an electric thermometer, flicking on a new plastic cap and pressing a few buttons.

"This will only take a second," he promised as he gently slid the contraption into my ear.

I gasped.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No, no—I'm fine, sorry."

"Alright."

There was only an infinitesimal change in the doctor's demeanor—a slight tightening around the eyes, a bit of a chill leaking into his serene tone. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I realized, as I had before, that he had registered my reaction to his absolutely frigid skin.

"Ninety-eight point six. It's perfect."

After a bit of scribbling onto his clipboard, Dr. Cullen gave me a smile. "You're free to go, as long as you take this to the front desk." He handed me a slip of paper, and then he hurried out the door.

I gently placed my fingertips on the side of my neck where his hands had made contact with my skin. There was no possible—no _humanly_ possible—way that they could have been that cold. I must have been imagining things.

"Bella, are you all right? Should I call the doctor back in?" Edward was worried, and I realized that I must look absolutely ridiculous staring into space.

"Sorry, I just dazed out," I murmured.

"Ready to go?" Edward asked. His question momentarily pushed Doctor Cullen from my mind as my previous anxieties made their way to the surface.

"Go where?" I asked lightly, arching my toes a bit.

He appraised my reaction quickly, his already sparkling eyes brightening.

"Well, if you're hungry, I know a place where we can get some good food."

"Yes," I said instantly, grasping at any chance to stay connected with him somehow.

He grinned, extending his hand. I took it.

After filling out some minor paperwork, Edward and I entered his silver Volvo. He fiddled with the heat and the radio controls and then pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

I frowned at the music blasting out of the stereo and abruptly changed the channel.

"Something wrong?" Edward asked, staring at me out of the corner of his eye.

"I don't like rap," I admitted.

"Thank God," he said with a sigh of relief. "Neither do I. What do you like?"

I shrugged. "I don't really consider myself an expert on music. Anything that's calm and soothing, I guess."

He thought for a minute before pressing one of the buttons, bringing up one of the pre-set stations on the stereo. I sighed contentedly as the familiar tune of Clair de Lune met my ears.

"You listen to classical?" Edward asked, intrigued.

"Sometimes," I admitted, closing my eyes and resting my head against the back of the seat. "My mom liked to play lots of classical music. Clair de Lune is one of my favorites."

"Mine too," he murmured.

We drove in a contented silence for a while. I hummed along to bars of music whenever they were familiar and I could sense that he was smiling even though I didn't open my eyes until the car slowed to a stop.

We were parked on the side of a street, and a beautifully quaint colonial style house greeted us. The bottom half was made of beautiful coffee colored stones, while the top was painted a fresh, crisp white. The door was ruby red, and there were three arches on the roof, each with its own window. The lawn was lush and green, and there was a short cobbled pathway leading up to the front.

"Where are we?" I asked in wonderment. It was like stepping into a fairy tale.

I looked over to share this moment with Edward, but he was gone; I panicked for a moment until the passenger door beside me opened.

"My lady," Edward said, bowing. I giggled, then took his extended hand.

"Where are we?" I asked again.

"My house," he answered simply.

"Oh, Edward, I don't know—" I began, blushing, but he simply pulled me across the pathway.

"Don't be silly. Come on."

"Mom?" Edward called out once we entered the doorway.

"Edward? Is that you?"

"Yes, Mom. I brought someone with me."

A middle aged woman who was slightly round bustled down the staircase. Her hair, which was pinned up into a bun, was exactly the same shade as Edwards, though her eyes were brown. She had rosy cheeks and a loving smile that she doled down lavishly on the two of us.

"Hello dear. What's your name?" she asked as she extended her hand.

"Bella Black. It's very nice to meet you."

"Well, you're very welcome here, Bella. I'm Elizabeth Masen."

I smiled, already some of my unease fading in the presence of such a motherly figure.

"We had to make a quick stop after school," Edward explained.

"It's all my fault," I said, blushing yet again. How many times did that make that today? Too many to count. "I fainted in Biology—"

"And I insisted on taking her to the hospital to make sure she was alright."

Elizabeth nodded, as if her son brought home pathetic, possibly unstable young girls every day after their trips to the hospital.

"Well, you must be famished, dear, after a day like that."

My stomach grumbled at that exact instant, betraying me. Elizabeth and Edward laughed in unison while I blushed further.

"Come on, dears," Edward's mother said, making a motion for us to follow her. "I've got a few things made."

'A few things' turned out to be several different flavors of homemade pies, chocolate pudding, freshly squeezed lemonade, blueberry muffins, and various cookies. Edward and I ate until our stomachs were fit to burst; the food was so good we could hardly stop. Elizabeth ushered us upstairs as soon as we finished, claiming that she needed to clean up, but there was a spark in her eyes that I didn't understand.

"I don't know how you're still alive," I groaned as Edward led me up the stairs. "If my mother cooked like that every day, I wouldn't be able to move."

He laughed. "Yes, she is quite a good cook. The kitchen is my mother's favorite place to be. She likes to stay busy. When she's not cooking she's usually painting."

"She likes to paint?" I asked, sincerely interested.

Edward nodded, wrapping his hand around mine. "She claims that it's strictly a hobby, but she's quite talented." He gestured to a framed landscape on the wall, a beautiful mixture of blues and greens. There was a river flowing through a forest, and it fanned out into the mist.

"Wow," I said softly.

He smiled. "Yes, like I said—she's quite talented." We reached a doorway, and he eased it open.

Blushing at the curiosity on my face, he said, "Well… this is my room."

I gasped.

It wasn't anything like a teenage boy's room should look like. The floor was dark and hardwood, shiny and smelling suspiciously like Pine-Sol; the deep gold curtains framed one of the windows that I'd seen outside. The view was lovely, even though it was just the lawn and the road—the way the sun was setting made it seem that much more magical. There was a large bookcase taking up the left wall, filled with every genre imaginable, with several DVD's scattered along the bottom. There was a television in the corner, and a bed across from it, the comforter the same shade as the curtains. The lights were dimmed, soft.

"It's beautiful," I breathed.

He slide one arm around my waist. "Yes, I used to think so."  
I lifted one eyebrow as I looked at him. "Used to?"

"Well," he said, spinning around so that he was in front of me. The light from the window framed his bronze hair, forming a sort of halo. "With you here, there's absolutely no comparison."

I blushed, but I didn't have much time to think of a retort. He was suddenly very, very close.

The same expression he had worn in the doctor's office was back; it was intense, passionate, and it made my heart thump so hard that I was positive that my whole body was pulsing. He tentatively reached out his forefinger to brush the hair from my face.

His emerald his were so close to mine, asking, wanting….

I closed my eyes and lifted my lips.

I'd had three kisses in my lifetime. One was in kindergarten, when Jessica Stanley had dared me to peck Tyler Crowley on the lips. One was in seventh grade, when Ben Cheney and I spent a very awkward second lip-locked when our braces got tangled momentarily when we bumped into each other in the hallway. And the last was with Embry Call, one of Jacob's old friends who lived on the Reservation. That one had far surpassed the previous two kisses, and I figured that, although it didn't seem particularly spectacular, that was as good as it was going to get.

Boy, was I wrong.

Kissing Edward was like nothing I'd ever experienced. It was soft and cautious at first, though quickly progressed to passionate and needy; I tangled my hands through his hair as he did the same with one of his and pressed his other arm to my back, pressing me tighter against him. I opened my mouth wider and he did the same; our tongues did a sort of dance that made me whimper.

And he whispered my name. "Bella. Bella, Bella, Bella."

I whispered back of course, breathing out his name whenever I could spare any air.

It seemed like hours later when we finally stopped; the light from the window was fading fast. I scowled at it, as if it were the reason that Edward and I never seemed to have enough time together.

"I guess I have to drive you home," Edward sighed, and I was happy to hear that he was disappointed.

We went downstairs, and Elizabeth peeked outside the kitchen; as we left out the door, I could swear I could hear her chuckling to herself.

**Did you pick up those not-so-subtle-subtle-hints about Dr. Cullen?**

**I'd really, really love reviews. It would make my day :)**

**And, in case you would like a bit more than my pathetic descriptions can give you, I have links to pictures of Edward's house and Elizabeth's painting on my profile! I also have a poll up... take a vote!**


	5. Sparkling

**People, do you know how awesome you are?**

**I went home from school sick today, feeling like crap, but I cheered up when I opened my e-mail because I had tons of reviews, favorites, and story alerts for _all_ of my stories.**

**So thanks. I don't mean to get sentimental on you all, but really, thanks. You have no idea how much all that means to me.**

**DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. **

**

* * *

  
**

All around us people laughed and chattered. The smell of hot dogs and popcorn drifted throughout the field. Neon lights glittered and flashed as the rides buzzed and groaned. The stars were barely visible in the face of such a spectacle.

It was the annual Forks Carnival, made even more amazing by the fact that, this time, it wasn't raining, and nothing had to be crammed into the gym of the high school. The sky was cloudless and clear.

Mocking me.

Because even though the night was bound to be fun and incredible, Edward was leaving in two days. Two days! And I might not ever see him again. I closed my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Are you alright?" Edward murmured, rubbing his hand along my arm.

I smiled at his anxious eyes. "I'm fine," I said, grasping the hand on my arm with my own. He smiled a crooked smiled that broke my heart and weaved his fingers with mine.

We did everything that was hokey and cliché of couples: we rode the Ferris Wheel, strolled hand in hand through the stands; he even won me a little stuffed animal at one of the booths by knocking down a pyramid of milk bottles with a baseball.

"I want to try," I said, laughing, as the attendant handed Edward the small plush animal.

He raised his eyebrows. "_You_ want to throw a baseball?"

It would have sounded rude if it hadn't been true; there was a chance that I could cause a city-wide blackout, exacerbate global warming, or unintentionally destroy a foreign nation with just a baseball. Don't ask me how. I could. My clumsiness had no restraints.

The attendant eyed me fearfully as he handed me the ball and then huddled into the corner of the booth.

I wound my arm, closed my eyes, and let the pitch go.

Without even raising my eyelids, I could tell that I had hit the mark as the bottles fell to the ground with a satisfying crash. Edward was visibly shocked. His mouth hung open as the relieved attendant handed me my own plush animal.

"Wow," Edward said, and I could tell he was impressed.

I flicked his nose teasingly. "How was that?"

"That was…" he struggled for a word, "… Sexy."

I stopped, raising my eyebrows. "Me? Sexy?" I could feel the blush color my cheeks as well as the satisfied smirk.

He nodded slyly, snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him. I had to crane my neck to keep contact with the gorgeous emerald eyes I adored.

"Incredibly sexy," he murmured, putting his lips to my ear and kissing the skin just under it. I sighed.

"Edward—." I started, but broke off.

"What is it?"

I bit my lip, debating the consequences. "There's something I want to tell you."

"Anything," he said solemnly, pulling his head back so that I could see his face.

"I love you," I murmured, blushing.

He grinned. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Don't make me say it again," I muttered, looking away.

"Bella…"

"Don't you 'Bella' me, Edward. I mean it."

His face looked strained, like he was in pain. "Bella, I don't want my leaving to make you feel pressured into saying something that you don't mean."

"Who says that I don't mean it?" And it was true. My love for Edward—this boy that I had only met less than two weeks ago—was as boundless as the heavens. I decided to go with 'I love you' instead of something as cheesy as that, even if it were true.

He laughed at my obstinate expression, but when he spoke, his voice was serious. "I love you, too, you know."

"Do you?" I whispered, my voice expressing the thousand doubts I held.

"Silly Bella," he teased, playing with a lock of my hair. "You really have no idea how irresistible you are. Of course I love you."

I smiled, but then scowled as he broke our embrace. I couldn't seem to get enough of him.

"I believe this is yours, Madame," Edward said, bowing and extending the tiny stuffed animal. I realized that it was a lamb.

"Then you should take this. A token of my love," I said, only slightly sarcastically, handing him the tiny stuffed lion.

He smirked as he examined it, and then sighed. "And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…"

Even though my entire pulse shot rapidly at the word _love_, I tried to act caviler. "Why the hell would a lion fall in love with a lamb? It's scientifically impossible. Don't be idiotic."

"Science holds no bounds over love."

"I'm pretty sure science holds bounds over, you know, everything."

"Silly Bella," Edward said, laughing and ruffling my hair playfully. "Come on, let's go."

I unzipped my jacket a little—even if it wasn't raining, it was still freezing out—and stuck the little lamb inside. Edward tried to pretend he didn't notice, but I caught him smirking out of the corner of my eye.

We decided to leave a few hours later when inevitability caught up with us and it started to rain. Edward had driven me here, so we hopped into his Volvo to escape the sudden downpour.

"I am definitely _not_ going to miss the rain when I'm in Afghanistan," Edward muttered as he shook droplets out of his hair. I don't think he meant for me to hear it, but I did, and that's when it really hit me.

Edward was leaving.

Of course, I had already known that. I had known that since the day we started talking again. I knew and I still made my choice—to be with him.

But, I hadn't actually…been with him.

Just thinking about it made my cheeks darken with a blush. He noticed.

"Are you alright, love?" he asked anxiously, putting a hand to my forehead.

"Perfectly fine," I answered, my voice a little higher than usual. "Listen, do you have to take me home? I mean, can't we still hang out?"

"Won't your father get angry?"

"Charlie's spending the weekend at my Uncle Billy's," I replied, praising the gods for this bit of luck. "He won't even know."

"Well, then, of course. Where would you like to go?"

"That depends… is your mom home?" I tried to keep my voice as even as possible. I think he noticed something was up with me, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

"No, she's taking the night shift at the hospital."

My knees were weak with relief. "Your house then, if you don't mind."

He smiled a wonderfully heartbreaking crooked smile that made all my agitation melt. It all came flooding back in full force when he parked in front of his house. I felt like my heart was thudding in my throat. My whole body was pulsating with its force. It was like pain, only good. Part of it was fear, I know that. But now I was able to put a name to the rest of the feeling: love.

"I love you, you know," I reminded him as we stepped through the threshold of his house.

He smiled back at me. "I know."

And then we were kissing.

Well, okay. I was kissing him. But he responded readily enough.

Our hands were everywhere; I couldn't get enough of him. I would never have enough, not even if we had eternity together. His fingers traced the contours of my back, and I shivered with delight.

"Come on," I murmured, breaking away.

"I wasn't finished," he complained, and I grinned impishly, grabbing his hand.

"Who's talking about stopping?"

He looked confused, and I couldn't believe he could be so... so _dense_. Couldn't he realize what was going on? What a blow to my ego.

But still, he followed me upstairs, which made me believe that he still wanted me, even if he couldn't grasp the nature of my plan. That made me giddy and nervous all at once.

As soon as we were in his room, I was kissing him again. Only this time it was more like I attacked him. He didn't seem to mind.

I slowly dragged him over to his bed and then collapsed onto it, taking him down with me. We continued to ravage each others mouths for a few minutes before he took a sharp breath and broke away.

"What, what?" I asked frantically. Had I done something wrong?

"Bella, what do you think you're doing?" Edward demanded.

My faced flushed with heat, but I wasn't going to be deterred that easily. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"No," Edward said, pushing himself off from the bed.

"Yes," I growled, grabbing his shoulders in a death grip and pulling him back onto me. We struggled bizarrely in that position for a few seconds before I gave up, tears and the feel of rejection stinging in my eyes. He stood up and walked away from me.

"Why don't you want me?" I whispered hollowly.

He spun around to face me, his face almost… _angry_.

"You think I don't _want_ you?"

"Your actions kind of speak for themselves," I retorted.

"Bella, you are incredibly absurd."

"Oh, _absurd_, am I?" I sat up, anger pulsing through my veins, replacing the desire I had felt only moments ago. Well, most of the desire.

"I know why you're doing this, you know."

"Of course you do. I told you I loved you."

"Oh please," he spat, "This isn't about that at all. This is about me leaving, and you thinking that you'll never see me again."

"That's not _all_ of it," I said, irked by his assumptions. "I do love you, and I do want you."

"If you love me, you'll wait."

We stayed there in silence for a while, him standing a few feet from me, me on the bed, both completely in silence. He was waiting for my response, and I was waiting for him to make sense.

I cracked first, of course. "If you love me, then prove it."

"I _am_ proving it."

"Yes, I can tell how much you love me from across the room."

Edward smirked, taking a few steps toward me.

"Oh, very clever smart ass. You know what I mean." I crossed my arms and turned away from him. I felt him sit next to me, felt his arm around me, but I didn't turn.

"Bella, will you let me explain?" he whispered, pulling me into his lap.

"All right," I muttered, snuggling my face into his neck. He laughed softly, stroking my hair.

"Bella, I don't think you can imagine how much I love you."

"I—"

"No, no, don't interrupt," he said, and when I looked up at him his eyes were sparkling. He put a single finger to my lips. "I love you, Bella. And I don't want to rush our relationship just because you think that I'm going to die." The way he said it, so nonchalant, made me shiver.

"But if you—" I tried to say against his finger, which was still on my lips, but he cut me off again.

"No, listen to me, Bella." He positioned me so that I was sitting up, looking at him dead in the eye. The only way he could do this was so I was straddled over his legs, and let me tell you… I liked it. "Bella, I'm going to come back. No matter how long it takes, no matter how much I have to go through—I will come back."

"Just because you say that doesn't mean that it will come true."

"Why don't you believe me?"

I chose my words carefully before I answered. "Edward, I've heard it all before," I reminded him softly.

"Jacob," he breathed, and I nodded.

"That was his speech, practically word for word. I think he added something about not messing up his room, though."

Edward smiled, but it didn't touch his eyes. "How can I make you believe that I'll come back?"

I shrugged. "It's not something that you have any control over."

He eyed me shrewdly for a moment before his face suddenly alighted.

"Wait here," he said, carefully taking me off his lap and putting me on the bed. "I'll be right back."

He ran out of the room and down the hall. I heard him opening and shutting drawers in a room before crowing with success and he ran back inside, both hands hidden behind his back.

"What do you have there?" I asked warily.

"Are you scared?" he asked teasingly, cocking his head to the side.

"I hate surprises," I admitted, and he laughed.

"Well, then I'll just have to tell you," he said, walking up to me. He extended one of his hands while keeping the other safely behind his back. He opened his fist, and I stared blankly at the item in it.

"What is it?" I asked.

He grinned. "It's a leather cord."

"It's, erm, nice."

He laughed. "It's for a necklace. The surprise is what goes on it."

I was instantly cautious again. "What?"

The smile faded from his face, morphing into a seriously passionate expression that made my breath catch. He slowly brought his other fist to me and opened it.

I gasped.

"Edward, it's…."

"Do you like it?"

"It's _beautiful_."

I wasn't one for jewelry, but this really took the cake. It was a ring, a gold ring to be exact, with a large, oval face filled with glittering diamonds.

He handed it to me, and I examined the treasure with delicate hands.

"It's the ring that my father gave to my mother when they got married," he explained quietly.

I froze. "This is a _wedding _ring?" My pulse was racing again. Sex was one thing, but _marriage_? Is this what he meant about waiting?

"Now don't get any ideas," he teased. "I'm not proposing to you. Just think of it as a… a promise ring. A physical reminder that I love you, and that I'll come back."

"Won't your mother want this?" I breathed, hoping that she wouldn't.

He smiled. "It's yours." I remembered his parents were separated, and nodded.

He wordlessly took the ring from my hands and then looped the leather cord through the finger hole. I leaned my head down, and he tied it around my neck. I put my finger to the makeshift necklace; it was cool to the touch.

No one had ever given me a gift so heartfelt, so loving.

When I looked back at Edward, my eyes were filled with tears, sparkling as much as the ring on my neck.

* * *

**Sentimental Eddie is just so freaking adorable. **

**Please review, guys. I'd love to know what you like (and what you don't) and what you want to see happen... anything. Really. I'm a sucker for reviews.  
**


	6. Scared

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I'm just having some non-profitable fun.**

**

* * *

  
**

"Edward, I'm home. I know it's early, but I just—oh!"

I wished it were possible for me to sink into the floor, to become invisible—_anything_. But, here I was, lying in Edward's bed at some ungodly hour in the morning, and his mother was standing in the doorway, staring at us with her mouth so wide open, she could swallow a cow whole.

I blushed so deeply that I looked like a human tomato, my embarrassment apparently giving me Lockjaw. Edward wasn't much better off.

"I—uh—this—it's not—"

"Well, don't let me interrupt," Elizabeth said, walking away, surreptitiously closing the door behind her. I could hear her giggling quietly as she walked down the hallway.

"Oh. My. God."

"I know," Edward moaned, sinking face first into his pillow.

"You realize what this looks like, right?"

He looked up long enough to grin at me, and I knew what he was thinking: this looked like how I had _wanted_ my plan to work out last night. But no, Edward and I had spent a perfectly chaste, sex-free night. I must have fallen asleep while we were talking. I definitely remember being awake for the fabulous make out session.

We got out of bed, and, despite the way that nothing seemed to go my way last night, I felt a genuine thrill of happiness about being in the same bed with Edward. Just being close to him was… well it was Heaven.

And then reality knocked on my door on Cloud Nine, delivering a package. It was labeled "Reality Check". And that's when I remembered: Edward was leaving today.

He had explained it all last night, while I tried to remain calm; even though he was being deployed tomorrow, he had to be at the base tonight. I was being cheated out of my last day with him in the same country.

Immediately my heart jumped into a sprint and my stomach dropped; my knees shook so severely that I couldn't move.

"Bella? What is it, love?" Edward asked anxiously, putting his hands on my shoulders.

"Nothing," I said in a voice that I hoped sounded normal. I spun around to face him, smiling. "Nothing at all."

He saw right through me, of course. He kissed me lightly to try and distract me. It kind of worked, too.

"Let's go get some breakfast," he suggested, and I followed him, my hand in his, down the stairs.

The sun was just starting to rise; the sky was just barely covered in a layer of clouds, so we could still see the dim light mounting the horizon.

"Breakfast?" a voice asked behind us, making me jump. It was Mrs. Masen. She smiled maternally. "I'm going to make waffles and a few other things."

Edward chuckled. "Waffles would be great, Mom."

The phone rang shrilly from the other room.

"Oh Edward, that's probably Sergeant Michaels, you should answer that. He's picking you up later this evening."

Edward nodded and hurried out of the room.

Without him there, I felt awkward and tense; I couldn't help but replay the embarrassing scene from the morning in my head.

"Mrs. Masen—,"

"Call me Elizabeth, dear," she said, turning from mixing a large bowl of batter to smile at me.

"Elizabeth," I said, "I want to apologize for this morning—I know what it may have looked like, but I promise nothing was going on. I didn't want to stay home alone, and Edward offered for me to come here." I was a little more than grateful that my master plan didn't work out. This way my explanation was true.

"Sweetheart," Elizabeth said, and the endearment sounded natural coming from her, "I don't think you understand how much you've changed Edward in the short time that you two have known each other."

I leaned against the counter next to her as she rummaged through a cabinet and pulled out a large waffle iron. She fumbled with the plug while I thought this over in my head.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he's been so… closed off, I guess, since his father died. He hasn't let anyone close to him emotionally. Now that he has you, it's like he is a whole new boy." She laughed softly to herself, spooning some batter into the ridges of the iron.

"Wait," I breathed. "His dad… your husband died?"

She looked up, the surprise evident in the way her eyes widened. "Edward didn't tell you?"

"He said… well I thought you two were separated," I said, realizing that Edward had never said point blank that his parents were divorced.

"He doesn't like to talk about it," Elizabeth said, nodding. "It was so hard on him. He goes to Chicago every year to visit his grave. It still affects him horribly. That's why I'm glad he has you, dear. I haven't seen him so happy since his father was still here."

I sat in stunned silence while Elizabeth closed the waffle iron and then traveled to the fridge, taking out a carton of eggs. My fingers unconsciously rose to my throat, where the diamond ring hung on the leather thread. I tried to unknot the twist on the back of my neck.

"Oh no," Elizabeth said when she saw what I was doing. "No, that ring belongs to you."

"But--,"

"No buts. When Edward Senior passed away, I gave the ring to my son. 'You give this to the girl you love more than anyone', I told him." She smiled, placing her hand on mine. "That girl is you. He made a wonderful choice."

And with that blessing, I instantly felt comfortable where I was. Elizabeth pulled me into a hug, and it felt natural, like something I had always had.

When Edward finally reentered the kitchen, I was helping Elizabeth prepare scrambled eggs, and we were chuckling at a joke she just told.

"I'm glad to see you two are getting along well," he said, grinning. I smiled back at him.

"We're just the best of friends," Elizabeth assured her son good-naturedly. "Was that Sergeant Michaels on the phone, Edward?"

He nodded. "We have to be at the base by six, so he's going to pick me and Bobby up around four-thirty."

My smile became rather fixed. I whisked the eggs in the bowl so hard a bit of yolk splattered on the otherwise-spotless countertop. No one seemed to notice my fit of insanity.

Elizabeth hummed a tune I didn't recognize as she lifted the waffles onto a platter, and then took the bowl of eggs out of my hands and poured it into a pan.

"Hmm...," she said loftily. "Bella, will you watch the eggs for me?" She winked and then left the room. I understood immediately, thanks to our eye-opening conversation: she was sacrificing what could possibly be the last moments with her son so that we could have time alone together, because she honestly believed that I made Edward happy.

I _tried_ to cook, but Edward wasn't very compliant; he kept wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my hair, and how was I supposed to concentrate? It wasn't my fault that the eggs were the teensiest bit burnt, or that the waffles were cold by the time we came up for air. We were only human, after all.

After microwaving the waffles and giving up on the scorched eggs entirely, Edward and I spent a perfectly lovely breakfast together, seated at the stools that lined the counter-island in the center of the kitchen.

And then, of course, life got in the way. Another phone call came for Edward, this time from Bobby, his neighbor who was also being deployed. He was still conversing with him when Elizabeth came back downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Poor Bobby. His mother frets so much that it's starting to make him anxious."

"Do you know how long they'll be on the phone?" I asked, in what I hoped was not a pathetic sort of voice.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Elizabeth murmured, putting a hand on the crook of my arm. "But this is probably how it's going to be all day: Edward on the phone or picking up last minute things or arranging plans with Bobby and Sergeant Michaels."

I groaned, putting my head in my hands. Elizabeth patted the back of my neck consolingly.

It was strange; I barely knew her, and yet Elizabeth seemed more like a mother to me than Renee ever had. Bless my mother's heart, but she was so damn scatterbrained all the time; we never had any proper bonding moments. With Elizabeth, it was easy and comfortable. What was it with these Masens, affecting my emotions like this?

"Why don't we do something together, dear?" Elizabeth asked suddenly. "I have a few blank canvasses in the garage—do you know how to paint?"

"Not even a little bit," I admitted. "Let's go!"

Laughing, she led me into the garage. It was a bit drafty, and the walls were just bare cinderblocks. Still, it was nice. Beside Edward's silver Volvo, there was a nondescript white sedan. There was a small door, however, that led into a smaller, heated room.

I recognized Elizabeth's handiwork: the walls were painted in a beautiful mixture of blues and greens, blending and swirling into never-ending abstract patterns. The floor was a tan carpet, and there were several canvas stands tucked away in a corner. In the center of the room stood a long table covered in papers, pencils, paintbrushes, and paint. (A/N: I did not mean for all of those words to begin with 'p'. Alliteration WIN!)

Elizabeth pulled two baggy collared shirts from a pile in the corner, which may have once been white but where now covered in a rainbow of pain speckles. We donned them over our clothes and then she set up two canvases.

"Just let your emotions guide the brush," she instructed me. "Pain what you feel, and nothing else."

I frowned, staring at the expanse of white in front of me. To some, there would be endless potential; to me, it was just blank.

"I don't know what I feel," I admitted.

"That's what painting is all about. You learn so much about yourself from your work."

That didn't seem to answer my question, but I just shrugged and picked up a brush. Elizabeth was using a bright, sunny yellow. I bit my lip and closed my eyes.

What did I feel?

I was surprised at the answer.

I was comfortable with Elizabeth; worried and scared about Edward; still mourning the memory of Jacob; blissfully in love; desperate to stay closed off, yet still there was a yearning to let go, to be free.

I took a deep breath, and dipped my brush in a dab of paint. And so I began, filling up the canvas with the colors of myself.

Immersed as I was in my painting, I didn't quite realize how much time was passing. My stomach soon alerted me when it was lunch time, and Elizabeth took Edward and I out to the Lodge, the only restaurant in the Forks area. There was a certain tension in the atmosphere that we tried to ignore, but couldn't quite brush away.

After lunch we went back to the Masen's house; I used their phone to talk to Charlie and explain where I was, and then Edward and I spent some time alone together. After that I watched him hurriedly get the last of his things in order.

And then, all too soon, it was four thirty.

We all sat in Edward's living room; Elizabeth on the couch, me on the loveseat, and Edward on the stone fireplace. Silence took on a new meaning. I swore I could hear their heartbeats.

Nobody moved; we could pass for statues.

And the clocked measured the seconds as they ticked by.

I felt like I was going to spontaneously combust from the tension of the silence, and yet I feared that if I spoke I would break down into tears.

A single knock at the door resounded throughout the house. Edward stiffly stood up and walked to the front of the house to answer it. I heard the low greetings; no one raised their voice higher than a murmur. It was like a funeral procession rather than a going-away gathering.

Edward returned into the room.

"It's time," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

And that right there, the vulnerability in his voice, it broke something inside of me. I couldn't stop the flow of tears from spilling out of my eyes, try as I might to dam them back with my eyelids.

His jaw was set, his emerald eyes stony. I had never seen him look more determined.

And yet, under the guise, I could see how he really felt.

Scared shitless.

I let Elizabeth say goodbye to him first; they walked in a half-embrace to the front door where they clamped on each other into a tight hug that lasted for minutes. Then they simultaneously broke apart.

"Bella," whispered Elizabeth, calling me to them.

I stood up; my joints felt frozen. I felt like I was having an out of body experience; nothing felt real.

I walked mechanically to them. Edward didn't meet my eyes. I reached out and touched his hand, which was pinned tightly to his side, and he let out a soft sob.

He was crying.

And then suddenly there was no distance between us; his hands were wrapped around my head and I wound mine around his shoulders, and our lips were connected. He kissed me furiously, recklessly, not caring that his mother was less than three feet away or that Sergeant Michaels was waiting in the car, in plain sight. We were together, and at that moment I believed that, no matter what, he would come back.

He had to.

He whispered my name once. "Bella."

And then he was gone.

* * *

**And now, ladies and gentlemen, the story picks up a bit. In the next chapter, we shall meet one of my favorite characters: Alice Cullen :)**

**What do you think will happen? What do you want to happen?  
**

**I would love reviews. Honestly. They would make my day.**


	7. Shopping

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer is not, well, me.**

**

* * *

  
**

_Ring._

I stared at the phone that hung on the wall of my kitchen, bewildered. Why was it doing that?

_Ring. Ring._

Oh, right. Someone was calling. I stared at Charlie, who was eating cereal across from me at the table. He didn't move.

_Ring._

I should probably pick it up.

_Ring._

I couldn't quite remember how to stand. My mind felt like it was working through a fog.

_Ring._

Damn it.

"Hello?" I asked, resigned to talk to whatever telemarketer was calling. I mean, who else could it be? Charlie and I weren't exactly candidates for Socialite of the Year or anything.

"Bella?"

"Angela?" I hadn't really talked to Angela since that first day in Forks, when she called me. So much had happened, so much time had passed. It had been a week and a half since Edward had left. He called me twice, sent me one e-mail, and assured me that a letter was on the way. It wasn't enough.

"Bella, what's wrong?" Angela asked anxiously.

"What are you talking about?" Two words into the conversation, and she already knew something was off? That was weird, even for someone as perceptive as Angela. Then again, I wouldn't put it past her to have super powers. That's just how Angela was.

"Your mom called me, she said you were upset," she explained.

"How would she know?" I asked, affronted. My mom hadn't made any contact with me since I moved here. I know the whole point of my little martyr act was to give her space, but seriously? No calls? Thanks, Mom.

I knew that I wasn't seriously angry at my mother—if anyone knew how spacey she could be, it was me—but it felt good to blame somebody for something when I was feeling so crappy.

"Your dad called her, he said that you were depressed."

"Oh he _did_, did he?" I asked, pivoting on my foot to glare at Charlie. He became particularly interested in his Cheerios, though I saw the russet skin on the back of his neck darken with a blush. I continued to stare daggers at him until he became so uncomfortable that he picked up his half-eaten breakfast, put it in the sink, and then left the room.

"Bella, talk to me," Angela pleaded.

"There's nothing to talk about," I said stubbornly.

"Why didn't you tell me that Edward left for Afghanistan?" she whispered, undeterred by my childish tone.

It took me a while to think of an answer.

"I wanted to… I don't know. I guess I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible before he left, and then I just… got distracted. And…."

"And?" Angela pressed.

I sighed. I knew she would get it out of me anyway. "I guess it seemed like it wasn't really happening, it wasn't real, if I didn't say it out loud."

There was silence on the other end.

"I guess that sounds pretty stupid," I admitted sheepishly.

More silence.

"Okay, Angela, I'd just like to remind you that you called me, and yet you are surprisingly lacking on your side of the conversation."

There was a slight pause, and then I heard a strange static sound, as if Angela had let out a large gust of air. I realized that she must have been holding her breath as she thought of something to say.

"Bella, how bad are you?" she whispered.

"I'm fine," I replied, a reflex reaction.

"You find a boy that you fall in love with, he leaves you in the same way that Jacob did, and you're fine? I don't buy it."

"I'm fine," I repeated, though this time my voice wavered a bit.

After a few more minutes of Angela trying to psychoanalyze me, we said goodbye and hung up. I stomped up the stairs to Charlie's room. He was hunched over the corner of his bed, as if he were trying to make himself as small as possible so I couldn't see him. I cleared my throat loudly and he sighed, sitting up straight to face me.

"So, you're talking about me to Mom now?" I demanded.

"Don't be like that, Bells," he groaned.

"You're talking about me behind my back!"

"I had to do something!" he cried.

"What are you talking about?"

"Bella, I'll be the first one to admit that I have no idea how to be a good father."

"Dad," I whispered, softened by his sentimental—yet true—statement.

"No, let me finish. I really have no idea what I'm doing, but that was fine at first because you're the type of girl who doesn't need to be taken care of." He squared his shoulders. "But ever since that Edwin left—"

"Edward," I automatically corrected, a shuddering fracture erupting along my heart at the sound of his name.

"That's what I meant, Edmund—"

"_Edward_," I said again, with a sigh.

"Does that really matter right now? The point is, ever since he left, you've… I don't know. Collapsed."

I crossed my arms defensively. "What do you mean, collapsed? I do my homework, I make dinner, I go grocery shopping, and I don't complain. I think I'm pretty much together."

Charlie shook his head. "Bella, you're not _you_ anymore. It's like part of you died now that he's gone. You don't go out anymore—"

"I didn't really go out much before, only with Edward and, as you pointed out, he's gone."

"—And you stopped calling Angela—"

"That was kind of a mutual thing, in case you haven't noticed. It's hard, living in two different states and all."

"Bella," Charlie said quietly, "What have you done the past few weeks?"

"What?"

"Tell me what you've done the past few weeks, ever since your boyfriend left."

"I—" And then I knew I was stuck. I had gone to school. I made dinner. Last night, Friday night, I had even stepped it up a notch and did some laundry.

"What about people? Who have you talked to besides me?"

"Well, see--," I started, but couldn't finish because I had no answer. "I talked to Angela," I said weakly.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Five minutes ago. And she called you, and you only spent a few minutes with her on the phone."

"Well, what do you want me to do, Charlie?" I asked scathingly, my anger making me lose my self-control.

"I want you to act like normal, Bella!" he retorted. "Go do something, go somewhere, talk to someone! Don't waste all your life on your boyfriend!"

I sat in stunned silence for a few seconds as this sunk in.

"Fine," I said finally. "Fine. I'm going out. I don't know where I'm going and I don't know when I'll be back."

"Bella—"

"Goodbye, Charlie." I stalked out of the room and flew down the stairs, grabbing my rain jacket off the hook by the door. I made sure I had my wallet and my keys and then I left, taking special care to slam the door has hard as I could.

I was furious with Charlie, but not for any rational reasons. The fact was, he was completely right. I was reclusive and stubborn and childish, and I hated that he could see that. But there it was.

I drove for a while in my truck—down the highway, the only road that would actually bring me somewhere—until I came to an intersection and realized I had no idea where I was going. It's not like I could just go back to Charlie's—that's exactly what he was expecting, because that's exactly what I felt like doing. No, I had to stay out until a suitable hour and then go home.

Part of me—well, most of me—wanted to just stay in the truck for a few hours. I had a paperback of _Pride and Prejudice_ jammed into the glove compartment somewhere, and I supposed I could kill some time with that. But I also wanted to give Charlie proof that I was a normal teenager, and for that I needed to do something I abhorred greatly.

_Shopping_. I shuddered.

Don't get me wrong. It's not like I'm a tomboy or something. I like clothes, I just don't like them so much that I obsess over every little thing that I wear. When I'm forced to get new outfits, I go for comfort rather than style, and I think that's what makes me stand out from my fellow peers. Rather than jam my boobs out of my shirt with pushup bras and lacy camisoles and wear the shortest skirts possible, I went for jeans, a t-shirt, and most often a jacket with a hood. Convenient—the hood shielded me from most of the water that leaked out of every crevice of the sky in this town—and comfortable, because I didn't opt for the jeans that pretty much cut off my circulation.

Renee loved shopping, and I was constantly forced to follow her around the mall back home, carrying her bags and eyeing the pretzel stand with increasing desire while she vacillated between pairs of shoes.

The only flaw in my plan was that by most people's definition of _normal_, normal teenage girls usually went to the mall with a gaggle of their closest, heavily made-up, giggling friends, not alone. But what did Charlie know about being a teenage girl? This was as good as my plan was going to get.

I made it to Port Angeles soon enough, and found a space a few streets away from a clothing store. Port Angeles didn't have a mall necessarily, but rather a bunch of mismatched shops. It would have to do. All I needed to do was get a pair of shoes or a shirt or something to show Charlie, and then I could spend the rest of the time reading in my truck.

It only took a few minutes to walk the few blocks to the store. The bell hung on the door rang when I entered; it echoed ominously throughout the empty store. Great. I was hoping for a bunch of people so that I could blend in. Now the fact that I wasn't with anyone was going to draw more attention to me. Talk about irony.

"Can I help you?" asked a sweet, trilling voice. I jumped, spinning around to the girl I hadn't realized snuck up on me, and then found myself stunned silent.

Rather than sentences, I could only think of words in my mind to describe her: pale, beautiful, perfect, eccentric, cheerful.

"I'm sorry, did I scare you?" she asked, sounding sincerely apologetic.

"N-no, I just wasn't paying attention, I guess," I murmured, shaking my head against the fog in my mind. Now that I could think relatively clearly, I realized that she resembled the doctor from the emergency room—Dr. Cullen. They had the same snowy-white, perfect features, not to mention the same odd, topaz eyes.

The girl grinned. "My name is Alice, and you're the first customer I've had since I started my shift. Sorry if I'm a little over-excited. I took this job to give people fashion advice, and how am I supposed to do that if they don't ever come?" Her lips formed a pout.

"Well, I just need a shirt or something…." Alice's face fell, obviously expecting that I would need her help with a full blown wardrobe. I felt bad and I tried to explain. "I got in a fight with my dad, and I just want something to prove that I, you know, went out and did something for once."

I didn't really expect her to understand or even sympathize with me, but, to my surprise, she did both.

"It's exactly the opposite with my dad," she said. "He's so _overprotective_… I mean, all I want is to go out and have fun with people, but he's scared that people will realize—well, anyway. He home schools me and everything. You wouldn't believe how long it took for me to be able to get this job." She rolled her eyes.

_He's scared that people will realize…_ Realize what? Probably that she's so beautiful, I reasoned with myself. I could imagine how many boys would go after her from her looks alone, even if she looked a little different—hair cropped short and spiky, clothes much more fashionable than Forks had ever seen, except maybe on television.

"Your dad isn't Dr. Cullen by any chance, is he?" I asked. I phrased it as a question to be polite; there was no coincidence that there were _two_ incredibly gorgeous, pale, honey-eyed creatures in such a small area.

"You know him?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"I'm kind of accident prone," I admitted, and she laughed.

"Then I guess you _would_ have met him, with him working in the emergency room and all." She let out another small chuckle. "Yes, he's my dad."

I nodded. "I figured."

She smiled. "Didn't you need clothes or something? Come on, I'll help you."

I spent another hour or so in the shop, amazed when I realized I was actually having _fun._ It wasn't long before I told Alice all about Edward and how much I missed him, and she listened and gave advice. It wasn't like with Angela, where she was analyzing my every word—she was just being herself.

"We should hang out sometime," Alice said seriously as I was paying for my purchases—precisely three shirts, one pair of shoes, and several pairs of jeans more than I anticipated.

"Sounds like fun!" I said, smiling. We made plans to hang out the next day around Forks. Apparently, her and her father lived in town.

As Alice handed me the receipt, I felt a small shock—her hands were as cold as her father's were.

Genetics, I told myself. It had to be some sort of weird genetic thing.

Night had fallen by the time that I stepped outside. It wasn't raining, but it was cold, and the air was damp. I sighed, shouldering my bag of items.

My footsteps echoed throughout the primarily empty streets; a huge thundercloud was looming in the horizon, and people were clamoring to get inside. Even in Washington, where it rained every second of the day, thunderstorms were considered bad weather.

I marveled at how dark it was as I dug my keys out of my pocket. It was difficult to hold the bag in one hand while doing this, and I ended up accidentally dropping my clothes everywhere.

"Damn it," I muttered, gathering up the items before they were completely sodden by the waterlogged ground.

"Let me get those for you," an oily-smooth voice purred. I jumped for the second time in one evening, and I didn't recognize the man who was crouching down next to me.

"I'm fine," I muttered, quickly snatching up the last blouse. "Thanks." I unlocked the door to the truck and threw the bag into the passenger seat.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked quietly in a way that made my skin crawl.

"Uhm, yes actually."

"I don't think so, Sugar. Why don't you stay with me a little while?" He winked. I felt like vomiting.

"Actually I'm just going to—." I gasped.

I had been sliding into the front seat of my car when the man grabbed my wrist and tugged me sharply, making me stumble out. I landed into his chest, and he traced his other hand along my right arm, the one that wasn't captive in his grip.

"Let go of me," I said. I was going for courageous and determined, but all the volume seemed to have left my throat; it came out as a scratchy whisper.

"Don't be like that," the man purred again, strengthening his grip on my wrist.

"You're hurting me," I said in my whisper-voice.

He suddenly pressed me up against the truck, my wrist still caught in his grip. I let out a cry, but he covered up my mouth with his other fist.

And then it all happened so fast.

A blinding flash of white. A feral snarl. A cry of pain—but not from me.

When I blinked, I recognized several things.

One: My wrist was free. I flexed my fingers with relief as the blood started to flow again. Ow. That would leave a few bruises. Two: My attacker was no longer pressed up against me. He was sitting on the ground, with Three: Alice Cullen sitting on top of him.

Her face was no longer cheery and open, but hard and dangerous.

Inhuman.

"Go home, Bella," she said in a voice that suggested she was using every bit of her self control.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. I felt awkward under Alice's strange glare, and I didn't know what to say regardless.

So I did the only thing I could do. I hopped into the truck, gunned the ignition, and sped as fast as I could out of the city's limits.

_This is why I don't go out, Charlie_, I thought to myself on the drive home.

* * *

**This story is getting a whole bunch of hits, thank you all! **

**Now how 'bout some reviews? :)  
**

**Special thanks to _digital devotion_, who unfailingly reviewed all the previous chapters and gave me some awesome book reccomendations. And who I hope will forgive me for forgetting that I wanted to give her a special mention in the last chapter.**


	8. Sorry

**Disclaimer: I'm not Stephenie Meyer, sheesh.**

**

* * *

  
**

_Dear Bella,_

_Why did I ever join the force? It's a question that I've been pondering for many sleepless nights. It's true that I love the fact that I am protecting my country, but that doesn't make up for being away from you. I've never felt this kind of longing before—it's like my heart has ripped into several pieces, and the only way it can heal is to be in your presence again._

_I wish I could write more, but they only give us so much time to ourselves. They're turning off the lights now. I'll send this in the morning._

_I miss you. I love you. _

_Edward_

_P.S.: I love you. Did I mention that? Who cares, I'll say it again. I love you, I love you, I love you._

I carefully pressed the letter to my heart, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply through my nose. For one moment, it was just Edward and I, attached by the heart.

I quickly wrote out my reply:

_Dear Edward,_

_I know exactly how you're feeling. It's like a piece of me left with you. Come back so I can be whole again!_

_As much as I'd love you to get back here this very second, I know that would be wrong. You joined the army for a reason, and you're damn well going to stick with it. As long as we're in this situation, then you better not regret any of the decisions you've made._

_That doesn't mean that I don't miss you though—because I do, so very much. I need you to stay safe, do your service, and then come home. In that order._

_Things around here are a bit boring since you left. Would you like to know the weather? Well, it's rained consecutively, every single day, without pause. It's like the clouds are mourning your departure as much as I am._

_I went to Port Angeles yesterday—it was fun. I know, I know. Shopping and I have our ups and downs (usually downs), but I met a girl in one of the stores I went in. Her name is Alice Cullen—the doctor's daughter. Remember that day in the emergency room?_

_There's not much else to say, other than: I love you, more than you can ever imagine. _

_Stay safe. Come back to me._

_Bella_

I looked around my room for an envelope, but the search was fruitless. I remembered the desk in the living room and quickly scampered down the stairs.

The desk was one of the old fashioned, roll-top affairs that covered the whole thing with a top not unlike the roof of a convertible. As I went to roll it up, however, I found out that it was locked. I frowned. Charlie never locked anything. What could be so special about this desk?

We kept most of the keys in a drawer in the kitchen, along with all the other miscellaneous items that we couldn't find an actual place to put, so I searched in there. Even after I tried every key on the ring of spares, the desk stayed locked.

It was starting to frustrate me. This desk would _not_ beat me.

"Open up!" I shouted as I hammered on the wooden top.

"Bella?"

Crap.

I spun around, realizing Charlie was in the doorway. He was frowning, his forehead filled with deep creases.

"Charlie! Uh… how long have you been standing there?" The real question was _how long have you seen me talking to inanimate objects?_

"I just came down stairs…" His eyes brightened as he saw the ring of keys in my one hand, the other one resting on the desk.

"What are you doing?" he asked, instantly furious. I recoiled in surprise. Charlie rarely showed emotion, and anger was last on the list.

"Wha—what?"

"Don't touch that desk, Bella," he demanded, pointing his finger at it to illustrate his point.

"Why?" I asked. I couldn't help myself. _It was just a desk_, for crying out loud!

"It was your mother's," he said with muted anger.

Ah. Now I understood.

"Oh. Sorry, Charlie. I won't touch it again," I whispered, my voice suddenly tender. I knew that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. That was probably the reason he never got rid of this outdated piece of junk. I carefully stepped away from it to show him that I was being true to my word. He started to walk away, but I called after him.

"Wait—do we have any stamps and envelopes?"

He frowned again. "You sending a letter?"

I nodded. "To Edward."

He rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen, returning with a few rolls of stamps and a stack of envelopes.

"I have a feeling you're going to be doing this a lot," he said. "Just keep 'em up in your room."

"Thanks, Charlie," I said quietly. I looked him in the eyes. "And I really am sorry."

He smiled lightly and touched my shoulder. "Sorry for going off on you, kid. It's just hard."

I nodded. "I know."

Charlie lumbered back upstairs to his room, and I stuffed my letter in the envelope. I sighed as I sealed it and attached a few stamps. I wasn't really sure how many to put on, to be honest, so I pretty much stuck on the whole roll.

Rather than stick the letter in my mailbox and wait for the mailman to pick it up in the morning, I opted to drive to the post office instead. I wanted this letter safe and sound—my concrete connection with Edward. The building wasn't that far away, just a couple of miles down the highway.

My Chevy truck wheezed in a way that couldn't be healthy when I gunned the engine to life, as usual. I ignored it, also as usual. It was raining, again as usual.

I hummed tunelessly while driving, not wanting to turn on the radio. I knew I would just get static anyway until I obsessive compulsively tuned the analog turner to a halfway audible station.

As usual.

Oh variation. How I love you so.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel as I waited at one of the three traffic lights in town. I wanted to get back soon—Alice promised she would call me today, and I didn't want to miss it—but I knew that there was no point. Something happened with her last night that I couldn't explain. How did she singlehandedly pin that pig to the ground in less than a second? How did she even _find_ me? Unless she followed me from the store… but then wouldn't she have said something when the jerk first started harassing me, not waited a minute or so?

Needless to say, I was confused.

As the light turned green, I found myself wishing I had enough cash to get a cell phone so that I could call Alice now. The actual phone was one thing, but how would I pay the monthly bills?

"I need a job," I muttered under my breath.

There was no one in the post office parking lot when I arrived, eerily reminiscent of my little misadventure of last night. Inside, I found myself checking over my shoulder every couple of seconds as I scribbled out the return address on the envelope.

"I'll take that, hon," a smiling woman told me from behind the counter. She stuck out her withered hand and I reluctantly handed over the letter.

"You're Bella Black, right?" she asked sweetly.

Damn you, Forks. Damn you and your small town gossip.

"Yes, that's me," I said, smiling the biggest fake smile I could muster.

"I'm Mrs. Cope." She grinned as she placed the white envelope in a basket behind her. "Let me guess, this is for a boy?"

I nodded, blushing. Mrs. Cope laughed.

"Just like your mother," she said, shaking her head good naturedly.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Your mother would send a letter once every Tuesday, back before you were born." She laughed again.

"I didn't know that," I said, frowning. Charlie had never mentioned anything about Mom sending him romantic letters, but it's not like we talked about that stuff anyhow.

"It was a long time ago, sweetheart," Mrs. Cope said, smiling. "How is your mother doing?"

"She's fine."

"I hear she moved to Arizona."

"Phoenix, yes."

"Did she remarry?"

I smiled my fake smile again. "Well, maybe I should go," I said sweetly, but firmly. The last thing I wanted to do today was talk to some woman I didn't even know about my mother.

I stopped at the Thriftway on the way home, gathering up a few ingredients for the dinner I would be making Charlie tonight: grilled chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes. As I was checking my grocery list to make sure I got everything, I accidentally ran my shopping cart into another, causing a clang that rang throughout the whole store.

"I'm so sorry!" I cried to the boy whose cart I hit.

He was around my age, maybe a year older, with smooth russet skin and shiny dark hair. I figured he was from the Quileute Reservation. He had a smile that was infectious, radiating happiness everywhere.

"It's okay," he replied, grinning. "Wait, don't I know you?"

I frowned. "I don't think we've ever met."

"Aren't you Charlie's daughter, Isabella?"

I sighed. "Bella." It was like the first day of school all over again.

"I'm Seth Clearwater," he explained, holding his hand out to shake.

Recognition sparked in my eyes. "Oh, I know you! Well, I at least know about you. Charlie talks about your family all the time."

It was true; whenever Charlie and I had one of our rare conversations, it was usually about the Clearwaters, who were his best friends on the reservation. Harry Clearwater and Charlie had grown up together, and he was devastated when he died around three years ago from a heart attack. Now Sue was raising her two kids, Seth and Leah, with her new husband, Brandon.

"How are you liking Forks?" Seth asked. I had a flashback to my first day at school, remembering how much it angered me when people asked me this question. I didn't feel any hostility toward Seth. Maybe it was because he seemed so innocent and sweet, or maybe because Forks was making me soft.

"It's not as bad as I thought it would be," I answered honestly.

Seth nodded. "Yeah, it's kind of a great place once you get past all the rain."

"And the _size_," I said, groaning. "The town is so small!"

Seth grinned widely. "The reservation's even tinier, trust me."

"Seth?" a voice called, and I saw a pretty Native American girl walking down the aisle. "Oh, there you are." She looked me over once, the hostility evident in her eyes. She didn't say a word to me.

"Leah, this is Bella, Charlie's daughter," Seth said.

"Hi, Leah," I said politely. She nodded tersely in response and then turned back to her brother.

"Mom says it's time to go. Did you get all the things you need?"

"Yeah," he told her, and then turned to me. "The next time Charlie comes to our house, maybe you should come."

"Maybe," I said cordially, trying to ignore Leah's glare. I tried to think of an excuse that wouldn't hurt Seth but would get me out of it. "I might not have time though. I'm looking for a job," I explained. It wasn't a lie, right? I mean, just an hour ago I had been muttering to myself that I needed a job.

"Hey, that's great! My stepdad is looking for someone to help him with his store!"

"Seth, we should really go," Leah said coldly, making no attempt to hide the fact that she was trying to change the subject.

"I'll have Brandon call you!" Seth called over his shoulder as Leah practically dragged him away by her claws.

Awkward.

I sighed and pushed my cart to the checkout line, wanting to get out of the store as fast as possible.

I was putting the vegetables in a pot to boil them when the phone rang. Charlie wasn't home, so I grabbed it off the hook on the wall.

"Hello?"

"Hello," said a deep, tenor voice. "Is this Bella Black?"

I nodded, and then realizing that the man couldn't hear me, said, "Yes. Can I help you?"

"Hello, Bella. We haven't met—my name is Brandon. My stepson says he ran into you in the store today."

"Oh!" I said. "Seth, yes."

"He said you were in need of a job, and—if you are up to it of course—I was wondering if you would like to work in my store, on the Reservation."

I bit my lip, debating it. On the one hand, I really needed the money, and something to keep me distracted so that I didn't spend every waking second moping about Edward. On the other hand… if I ran into Leah, they would probably never find my body.

"Um… Leah's not going to be there, is she?" I asked quietly.

Brandon laughed. "No, she doesn't like to come to the store."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Then I'm in. When do I start?"

"How about tomorrow, after school?"

"I'll see you then," I promised him. After getting some specifics on hours and pay, I hung up the phone and started marinating the raw chicken. The phone rang after a few seconds.

"Hello?" I asked. Did Brandon forget something?"

"Bella?"

"Alice?"

"Bella, I'm so sorry—I know I said I would call you and I didn't, but—"

"Calm down, Alice. Why are you whispering?"

She paused. "Bella, I'm sorry, but we can't be friends."

I was so shocked I almost dropped the phone.

"_Excuse_ me?" I gasped.

"I'm sorry, Bella, I really want to be your friend—but my dad, see, he grounded me _forever_, and I won't be able to go out anywhere, and you can't come here, and I'm technically not supposed to use the phone, which is why I'm whispering."

"Ah," I said bitterly. "Great."

Go figure the one person I really hit it off with would have to dump me.

"I'm really sorry, Bella," she whispered. "I have to go."

I slammed the phone back on the hook.

Damn it.

* * *

**Reviews would be lovely and are very much appreciated!**


	9. Stories

**Sorry for not updating as much as I should, guys. School's been pretty crazy lately.**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter! It's one of my favorites so far, so I hope you enjoy!**

**Reviews, as always, are loved and adored.**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a banana. No fair.**

**

* * *

**School passed as impossibly slowly as it always did without Edward to alleviate the tedium. There was just nothing remotely interesting about it anymore, nothing that drew any bit of my attention. I spent most of my time in a haze, desperate for time to pass without feeling.

After driving home through the misty moisture, I quickly brushed my hair and changed into more comfortable clothing. I'd asked Brandon for longer hours than he'd offered, and I would probably be standing or sitting for hours at a time. Wet jeans were not the most optimal choice.

I hopped back into my truck and then drove the unfamiliar route to the Quileute Reservation; it was strange that my father grew up there and Jacob spent most of his time there, and yet I rarely ever set foot on the land if I could help it. I maneuvered my truck through the sludge until I made it to the tiny antique shop that was wedged between the town deli and a store that sold umbrellas and rain gear.

The chimes on the door rang when I opened it, making Brandon look up. He smiled when he saw me.

"Bella, I presume," he said, sticking out his hand.

I shook it. "It's very nice to meet you."

"The same to you."

Brandon was tall, probably six feet, with dark curly hair and the russet skin I was so familiar with. His eyes were wide and dark, full of kindness. I instantly liked him for the same irrational reason that I liked his son--there was just some sort of unconscious serenity about him that disarmed all my barriers.

The shop was quaint and tiny, decorated in a haphazard fashion. Seashells and photos decked the walls, and the small shelves were filled with tiny statues and boxes and other trinkets that tourists loved to get. Brandon showed me around and explained what I would have to do, which was man the cash register. Business wasn't exactly booming, so he told me that I'd have a lot of time to myself. I was grateful that I'd decided to bring my book bag with me. I would have plenty of time to finish my schoolwork.

"And that's pretty much it," Brandon said as he finished instructing me on the mysterious ways of the cash register.

"Where are all these pictures from?" I asked. The frames dominated the most part of the wall space.

"Some of them are Sue's, some are mine, and some are from other families on the Reservation." He smiled. "I wanted to make it as homey as possible, so when I opened the store I sent out a plea to everyone, practically begging them to send me some family photos."

I laughed, tracing the glass frames with my fingertips. Most were covered in a fine sheet of dust. "Would you like me to dust these for you/?" I asked.

"Well, it's not exactly in your job description--"

"I can do anything you need me to," I replied. "Don't worry about it."

He grinned widely. "I'll get some supplies from the back."

I went back to examining the pictures while he rummaged in the store room. Most of them were rather dusty... except for one, which was glinting in the faint light. I frowned; it was one that was on the wall to my right, just above the cash register. It looked vaguely familiar... I stepped closer, recognizing the flyaway brown hair and the carefree expression--

"All right, so we've got a feather duster and some Windex, and if you need paper towels they're--"

"Is this my mom?" I blurted out.

Brandon blinked a few times, his eyes flying to the picture I was looking at.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, yeah."

I stared at him with a questioning look.

"Like I said," he explained, "I asked around for some photos. I guess your dad gave me one too. There are so many in here that I lost track." He laughed, but the sound was off. He was definitely hiding something.

"Oh," I said.

"Look, I know it's your first day and everything, but I really do need to run out. Mrs. Call is making some Christmas ornaments for me to sell, and they're popular all year long, so--"

"Yeah, don't worry about it," I assured him. "I'll be fine."

He smiled, said goodbye, and then walked out.

I went through the bucket of supplies and set my shoulders. Cleaning had never really been a problem for me as I was naturally a neat person and Renee was a bit of a slob, so I was weirdly looking forward to it. I picked up the feather duster and started with that, wiping down the pictures on the wall and the cash register for good measure. I decided not to hit the items for sale--at least on my first day--because I was bound to break something. Coordination wasn't exactly my specialty.

The picture of Renee caught my eye again. She had something in her arms, but the picture was blurry and I couldn't quite tell what it was... I carefully lifted the frame off the wall. Strange that this was the one that had no dust on it. I squinted and strained my eyes, and gasped. Renee was holding a child--me! Well, that was different. I smiled and went to put it back on the wall.

"Need some help?"

I yelped and dropped the frame, spinning around to see--Seth.

"Aw man, Bella, I didn't mean to scare you," he apologized. "Did it break?"

I gingerly picked up the frame with the tips of my fingers. The glass was cracked, and badly, but thankfully it hadn't shattered.

"There's no glass on the floor, but yeah, it broke."

"Stay here," he said, outstretching his hands, palms out, as if he were stopping traffic. "I'll run home and get a new one. Brandon will never know the difference."

"Seth, you don't have to do that."

"Relax, Bella, my house is right down the street. It'll take like, a minute."

"Thank you!" I called as he raced out of the store. I chuckled softly and placed the picture on the counter, glass face down, and undid the small clasps that held the back in. I picked up the square that came loose and was surprised when I didn't see the back of a photo, but a piece of crumpled paper.

I took it out and smoothed the creases against the edge of the counter, confused. Why would Brandon hide a letter in a photo of Renee and me? I quickly scanned it and stared at the signature at the bottom, unable to comprehend. Why did _my mom_ send Brandon a letter? Something weird was definitely going on.

"Bella?" Seth called, panting with exertion. I quickly stuffed the letter in my jacket pocket on an impulse.

"Hey, Seth. Maybe you should calm down a bit."

"I'm fine," he said, waving his free hand around as if it were no big deal. His other hand clutched a stitch in his side.

"Yeah, you look great," I teased. "Red is a really good color for your face."

He laughed breathily as I brought a chair over and forced him to sit down. He handed me the frame, and I snuck back behind the counter to make the exchange.

"So, besides this little accident, how's your first day?" Seth asked me.

I shrugged. "It's good. Nothing really has happened. There haven't been that many customers yet."

"Yeah," Seth said, nodding. "It's the off season. Most of the buyers come in either in the summer or around the holidays. It's times like these that you're going to get a ton of down time."

"That's great," I said, laughing, "Otherwise I wouldn't have any time to do my homework and I'd fail out of school."

"Oh, I doubt that. You seem like an a-plus student type of girl," he mocked playfully.

"More like b-minus, and barely," I said truthfully. "Do you like school?"

He snorted. "Of course not. No one actually _likes_ school. You just endure it and make the best of it."

"I agree," I said wholeheartedly.

"Friends make it better, though," he amended.

"That's a good point. Who do you hang out with?"

"Well, Quil Ateara is a great guy, but lately he's been ignoring me." His face soured. "He's decided to hang out with _them_."

"Them?"

Seth rolled his eyes. "Yeah, them. The La Push _Gang_."

I laughed. "Sounds pretty bad-ass."

"Not really," he grumbled. "They just stick together and exclude everyone else. They don't _do_ anything."

I saw the hurt in his eyes and got up and gave him a hug; it was a little awkward because he was still sitting down, but he seemed to be cheered up after that.

"So who do you hang out with?" he asked. I could tell he was trying to change the subject, so I let him. I really liked Seth. I didn't want to keep the conversation going if it hurt him.

"Umm, well mostly I stick to myself. I met a girl the other day--Alice Cullen--but apparently she's not allowed to be my friend," I said, trying, and failing, to hide the disgust in my voice. I really liked Alice. I thought she liked me too--even being grounded shouldn't have stopped her from being my friend.

"Alice Cullen?" Seth asked, frowning.

"Yeah, do you know her?"

"Not really," he admitted. "Everyone on the Reservation kind of dislikes the Cullens, and that's putting it mildly."

"Why?" I asked, leaning over the counter. "Alice is really friendly, and Dr. Cullen seemed nice enough when I met him." I remembered the kind doctor from the emergency room and couldn't believe that anyone could harbor any ill-will toward the man.

"Our tribe is ridiculously superstitious." Seth rolled his eyes. "They're convinced the Cullens aren't human or something."

Flashes ran through my brain: the speed at which Alice ran to me that unfortunate night, the way she pinned the man down in less than a second, the cold skin and strange eyes that she and her father both shared.

I carefully fingered the ring on my neck that Edward had given me while I realized that Seth was completely on target: the Cullens were _not_ human.

"Mmm," I murmured noncommittally.

"I know, it sounds pretty stupid," he said sheepishly. "But our tribe is full of weird stories like that."

"Like what?" I asked.

Seth looked surprised. "Didn't your dad ever tell you the legends?"

"Nope. Renee--my mom, I mean--didn't really like it when he spoke about the Reservation. It made her feel bad for making him leave it."

He nodded. "That makes sense, I guess, but you're missing out." He flashed an infectious grin.

"How about you tell me?"

"Sweet!"

I laughed at his enthusiasm and gestured for him to go ahead.

"What do you want to hear first?"

I deliberated for a moment. "Tell me your favorite," I said.

He scratched his neck while he thought.

"All right," he said, his eyes sparkling. "That would have to be the one about the werewolves."

"Ooo," I said, grinning. "I can tell that this is going to be good."

Seth went into a very detailed story about Taha Aki and the spirit warriors, frequently acting parts out. It was a very serious and interesting story, but watching Seth crouch on the floor and howl like a wolf made me fall over with laughter.

"And then, right, a cold one came into--"

"Wait, what?" I asked. "A cold one?"

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. A cold one is like a vampire, see, except less cool."

"How can a vampire be uncool?" I protested. "They're the epitome of awesome monsters."

"Well, they drank blood and everything, but the sun didn't burn them-- it made them _sparkle_."

I snorted. "Sparkle?"

Seth chuckled. "Yeah, their skin is made of really hard stuff, like crystals or diamonds or something, and when they walk in the sunlight, they, like, glitter."

Seth and I burst out laughing, and I had to clutch at a stitch in my side. It was just so ridiculous!

"And that's not even the best part!" he choked out. "One of their superpowers is to be really, really _pretty_."

We could barely breathe for laughter. Pretty vampires who sparkle? As if.

"But, other than that," Seth amended, serious again, "They have some pretty cool powers."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Well, supposedly, they're, like, super strong and super fast. They can go from zero to one hundred miles an hour like _that._" He snapped his fingers.

A tingle of unease ran through me. Alice had been blocks away when I was being attacked by that pig, and yet she was there in a flash, pinning him down in half a second.

"Why are they called the cold ones?" I asked slowly, my voice strangled. I already knew the answer, but I was desperate to be wrong.

"Cause their skin is so cold--cold and really pale."

"So, let me guess," I said with a chuckled that sounded false, "The tribe thinks the Cullens are these cold ones?"

He shrugged. "Yup. Pretty crazy stuff if you ask me."

"Yeah... crazy stuff."

I pushed my truck past its internal speed limit, which was fifty-five miles an hour. It groaned in protest, but I continued to barrel down the highway anyway.

I made it home in less than ten minutes. I practically ripped the front door from its frame in my haste to get inside.

"Charlie?" I called, running into the kitchen. "Do you know where the Cullens live?"

I found Charlie sitting at the kitchen table, hands folded somberly. He blinked in surprise when he saw me.

"How did you find out?" he asked.

I did a double take. Charlie knew too? How did Charlie know about the Cullens being vampires? I mean, he lived on the reservation and probably knew the stories and everything, but he didn't seem to be type of person to put faith in legends. He was an upholder of the law. Facts were his best friend.

"Know what?" I asked cautiously. Charlie's eyes tightened and he looked down at the table, refusing to meet my eyes.

My plan to confront Alice at her house fell into shambles as I realized that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

"Know what, Charlie?" I repeated slowly. I wasn't sure what I was so nervous about, but watching Charlie's mouth set into a grimace made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. My heart started to pound, the blood rushing through my adrenaline-spiked veins. The only sound I could possibly hear in that moment was the roaring of blood in my ears, and yet, over the din, I heard Charlie's next impossible words.

"It's Edward, hon. He's injured."

**Ooo... cliffhanger!**

** Review, pretty please-- I love all comments. **


	10. Survival

**And, back from our lovely cliff hanger, we have the next chapter of Soldier!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer. Nope.  
**

"Injured," I repeated slowly. My mind refused to place the meaning to the word. It couldn't be true. Impossible. No. No way.

No.

"It's not good, Bells," Charlie warned me quietly as he stood up. "He was caught in an explosion--suicide bombing. He's badly burned and got a lot of broken bones, and--"

"Stop," I whispered, the panic striking my heart like a mallet. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. "Stop." My voice was so quiet I didn't know if he heard me.

Charlie put his hands on my shoulders. "You need to hear this, Bells, otherwise I wouldn't be doing this to you. The patched him up as best they could in Afghanistan--"

"No--"

"--But he's still in pretty bad shape. They airlifted him to a hospital in New York and they did some more surgeries there, but his mother wanted him close, so they brought him to the Forks Hospital. Dr. Cullen performed more surgery and put him in a bunch of splints--"

Cullen. Cullen. That name rang a bell. Somewhere, in the very tiny corner of my mind that wasn't absolutely paralyzed, I remembered. Alice. Dr. Cullen.

Vampires.

I couldn't remember why it mattered.

"--He caught a nasty infection somewhere along the line. It's not looking good. Dr. Cullen's being a great sport about the whole thing, treating him at his own house and everything--personal care round the clock. But I don't want you to get your hopes up. He's very weak. He might not--"

"Shut up!" I shouted, so loudly that Charlie blanched. I ripped myself out from under his hands. "He'll pull through. He will. He has to!" I half shrieked.

Charlie nodded, but didn't say anything more.

"C'mon, kid," he whispered. "I'll take you there."

We took the cruiser. The drive was quiet and awkward, but thankfully Charlie didn't dare make any conversation. I wouldn't have heard it over the thudding of my heart anyway. Edward, Edward--no, he couldn't be dying. No. No way. The mantra repeated over and over again.

And then we were there. I blinked. The drive seemed to have taken all eternity and yet no time at all. Alice was waiting by the door; she gave me a hug and whispered _I'm so sorry_ into my ear, but I pushed her away, and suddenly I was screaming, screaming, "Where's Edward?" and she pulled my hand and brought me to the living room--and there he was.

My trembling hand flew to my mouth, which was open in horror.

"Oh dear god," I whispered shakily.

His leg was in a splint and his chest was tightly bound in plaster. Both his arms were in casts; only his badly bruised hands were visible. Little of his skin showed throughout the mess of gauze and bandages. The pieces that did show, though, were either badly burned or bruised beyond recognition. Edward was twitching and muttering feverishly, tugging on the IV that was attached to his left wrist. His face was bruised and beaten, and his lips were moving quickly in silent, frenzied speech.

Elizabeth was leaning over him, sobbing shamelessly and uncontrollably, and clutching his damaged fingertips. Dr. Cullen silently gave her a wet cloth, and she sponged off the perspiration that was dewing on Edward's creased forehead. Edward groaned quietly in pain as the rag touched his face.

"He's feverish," Dr. Cullen explained to me in a muted voice. "I have him on morphine and antibiotics, but it's just not enough."

Elizabeth let out a loud wail, rocking back and forth through her tears. She clutched a rosary in the hand that wasn't connected to Edward, and whispered prayers fervently under her breath, choking on the words.

I felt the silent tears roll down my cheeks, and my lips trembled against the hand that I had never removed from my mouth. The utter hopelessness of the scene made me want to vomit, to bash my head into a wall, to rip open my skull and pour in acid and burn the images away. I raked my hand over my face, pulling down the skin.

"Edward," I choked out as I walked to his bed. "Edward," I whispered again, clutching what I could of his free hand.

The touch had an effect similar to flicking a light switch. With a shuddering gasp, he opened his eyes.

"Bell...a," he gasped, panting heavily. Although his bloodshot eyes were open as wide as could be possible, he couldn't seem to see; his pupils swiveled haphazardly about the room, taking nothing in. He groped the air blindly until he found my shirt, and tugged me forward.

"Bell...a," he whispered again, and the obvious effort he had to exert to say the two simple syllables made the tears fall faster. They splattered along his cheeks and neck, sizzling against his too-hot skin.

"I'm here," I whispered urgently. "I'm here, I'm here and I love you."

His hand reached upward, touching my neck, finding the ring that was still attached to the leather cord. A smile touched his lips for the briefest fraction of a second, and then disappeared as he tried to form new words.

"Ja... Jacob says... hi."

I pressed my hand to my mouth to muffle my shriek; was Edward so close to death that he was seeing my brother? A sob ripped from the depths of my throat as he closed his eyes again, the fever pulling him under once more. I shook his shoulders and screamed his name, but his body was limp.

"No!" I screamed.

"Alice!" Dr. Cullen called sharply. I looked up at him out of reflex, and out of the corner of my eye I saw something topple over. My eyes flashed over to the seat where Elizabeth was stationed moments ago. It was empty. I gasped. She was on the ground, unconscious.

"She's passed out!" I cried.

"No," said the doctor, instantly by her side. "Not passed out."

I tried to figure out what that meant as my glance caught Alice; she had a glazed look upon her face. Her eyes darted back and forth blankly. "Oh no!" she whispered, coming out of her strange trance.

"What? What is it?" I shrieked, but neither of them listened to my half-crazed demands. Charlie backed closer toward the wall, his hands behind his back, clearly out of his element.

"I'm sorry, Carlisle!" Alice shouted over Edward's groans and my shrieks. "I didn't see! I was watching Bella, and--"

"Get another stretcher!" Carlisle demanded in a robotic voice.

"Tell me what's going on!" I demanded once more. Dr. Cullen glanced up at me from his position on the floor, where he was taking the still-unconscious Elizabeth's pulse. He held up a few of her limp fingers. I leaned closer and saw that they were covered in fresh, shallow burns, as if she had accidentally touched a hot pan on the fryer and pulled them away.

"She's caught his infection! It seeped in through the raw flesh on her fingers—She must have burned them before she came—I had no idea—She's been here for _hours--_"

"But--but you can heal her, right? She's healthier than Edward, she'll pull through this!"

"Alice!" Dr. Cullen cried again without answering me.

Alice appeared out of nowhere at the top of the stairs, towing a hospital bed on wheels behind her, and IV perched on top of the stretcher. She helped Dr. Cullen lift Elizabeth onto the bed and then flew back upstairs while he inserted the IV into her wrist. I clutched at the flesh on my face as I watched two of the people I loved fall from life.

And then Alice was there again, holding a large floodlight. She plugged it in and switched it on. Suddenly, the whole room was bathed in intense florescent light. We were all thrown in such sharp brightness that I couldn't see. I rubbed my stinging eyes, still crying. They adjusted in time to see Alice back against the wall near Charlie, her eyes burning with regret and helplessness.

"Bella, you need to get out of here!" the doctor shouted to me. "The infection is obviously more contagious than I ever imagined-- I can't believe I didn't see this before." He flashed a dark look to Alice, who was crying tearless sobs.

"No!" I protested loudly. "I need to stay!"

"Bella," Charlie reasoned quietly, tugging on my shoulder.

A sudden, sharp inhalation interrupted my retort.

Elizabeth's eyes flew open just as her son's had moments before, bloodshot and feverish. She grabbed Dr. Cullen's arms.

"Save him!" she commanded imperiously, pointing to her son in the bed next to her.

"I'll do everything in my power," Dr. Cullen promised.

"You must. You must do everything in _your_ power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward."

Dr. Cullen's eyes widened as he found some meaning in Elizabeth's fever-induced words. Satisfied, she released her grip and fell back on the bed.

"She cannot possibly..." he muttered to himself, "No... surely not."

"Carlisle!" Alice shouted. The doctor started, and then cocked his ear toward Elizabeth's chest. He cursed loudly.

"The paddles, Alice, the paddles!"

Alice rushed upstairs and appeared nearly an instant later with a cart that had a rectangular machine on top.

"What is it?" I cried as Alice fiddled with knobs and dials on the machine.

"She's going into V-tach!"

I watched enough House to understand what that meant.

"She's having a heart attack?! How do you know?"

Carlisle only flashed me a hard look with his topaz eyes, and I fell silent.

"Clear!" Alice shouted.

Carlisle pressed the metal paddles to Elizabeth's chest. She flopped like a dead fish, but did not stir other than that. The electric shock through her heart did nothing.

"Higher voltage!"

Alice twisted the dial. "Clear!"

I watched the strange sight-- young Alice working a life-saving medical device while her father worked over the mother of the boy I loved--repeat over and over again. Paddles pressed. Elizabeth flops. Again. Again.

Until-

"Carlisle," Alice whispered, putting her hand on his chest. "There's no sense in fighting the future anymore."

Carlisle nodded tersely, swallowed, and then put the paddles down.

"NO!" I screamed. I started to sprint forward to Elizabeth's motionless figure, but Charlie caught me and held me back. I thrashed and kicked and screamed, but it was no use; Charlie had had enough experience detaining criminals that I was too easy to restrain.

Alice came up behind my struggling body, deftly defying my flailing limbs.

"I'm really sorry about this, Bella," she whispered before stabbing a needle in my jugular.

My thrashing ceased. My eyelids drooped.

Blackness.

**So, kind of a more intense chapter than usual. Please review! :)**


	11. Stupor

****Just a small word of warning, guys: most of this chapter is choppy and disjointed. I did that on purpose. Bella's going through a rough period where nothing really makes sense to her, kind of like in New Moon, except worse. So please don't review this going "OMG THIS SUX!" when it's not supposed to be Jane Austen material here. Just go with it. It'll get better soon.****

When I woke up, it was sudden and instantaneous.

I was in my room. It was dark.

"Bella," a voice whispered.

I shot up so fast that I got tangled in my bed sheets and toppled over to the ground. Cold, hard hands caught me before I could crack my head open.

"Bella, what are we going to do with you?" a lilting voice murmured, chuckling quietly. She lifted me back into the bed.

"Alice?" I murmured sleepily. I rubbed my eyes and turned on my lamp.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. I felt a rush of wind.

I turned around. There was nobody in my room.

I didn't sleep much. By the time the sun started its slow journey over the cloud-covered horizon, I was still in the same position, lying face-up on my bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. A light haze fell through my window, and the light made the shadows of the objects in my room grow larger and larger.

I threw a pillow over my eyes and wished for the darkness.

"Bella?" Charlie whispered. The door creaked as he opened it.

I didn't move, didn't answer him.

He stood there for a time, and then walked away.

The phone rang a few hours later. I heard Charlie jump in the kitchen below me, tripping over a chair in his haste to get to the phone before it would wake me. I wish I could tell him that it was unnecessary, that there was no way I could fall asleep feeling like this, when I heard his voice carry up the stairs.

"No, no Brandon, she isn't going to work today, I'm sorry. She's a little messed up after what happened last night…" Charlie paused, and I found myself straining to hear more. He started murmuring, and I couldn't hear right. I lifted my torso up, ignoring the massive pain in my head as the blood rushed down. I shakily hooked my legs over the side of my bed and stood. I hadn't eaten anything since the day before, and my balance wasn't exactly perfect on a good day.

As I made my way down the stairs, Charlie's voice grew progressively louder. "Honestly, I'm scared that she'll never be right again… having to watch her boyfriend's mother die right before her eyes—," he inhaled deeply, and sighed. "I haven't had the heart to tell her the news yet, I'm afraid it'll kill her—she's been through so much this year already—"

"Tell me what, Charlie?"

My voice made him jump, and I had to admit that it scared me a little as well. It was hollow, rough. It was the sound of the living dead.

It was pretty fitting. The people I loved were dropping like flies. Jacob, Elizabeth. Would I be next?

"I have to go," Charlie said hurriedly into the receiver before hanging it up on the hook on the wall. I stood there, dressed in the same clothes I had worn yesterday. I looked down at my hands as Charlie struggled to speak.

The cuffs of my shirt were covered in Edward's blood.

"Bella, maybe you should sit down," Charlie whispered tenderly, not quite masking the unadulterated fear in his voice. I wondered how I looked to him. Paler than usual, half-dead, with hollowed out eyes and shadows underneath them. I hadn't brushed my hair since yesterday. I probably looked like a zombie.

"I'll stand," I whispered shakily, not quite sure if I would be able to for much longer.

Charlie pretended not to hear me and slid one of the kitchen chairs behind me, and then eased me down into it.

I knew that he was about to tell me something horrible, something that he was scared would break me. And, I had to admit, at the moment I was very breakable. Yet, even though I knew these things in the very core of my soul, I couldn't make myself feel the dread that I should. I would take this piece of bad news in stride, probably because I had nothing left to feel. My heart had been laid out on the table last night, cut and torn into jagged pieces until there was nothing beating in my chest.

I was empty. Hollow.

There was no reason Charlie should worry, because there was nothing left in me to die.

"Elizabeth Masen's funeral is going to be tomorrow, sweetheart," Charlie whispered. "Dr. Cullen is taking care of the arrangements."

Charlie hadn't called me "sweetheart" since I was very young. I knew it was touching, and yet I couldn't feel sentimental. I was numb.

My father trembled as he looked into my eyes, seeing that there was no life behind them. He swallowed loudly before continuing.

"It's… it's going to be a double funeral, honey."

The words hung in tense silence around us for several seconds, weighing me down.

"Double funeral," I repeated. My voice was bland, emotionless.

"Yes. For Elizabeth… and Edward." Charlie's voice turned pleading. "Dr. Cullen called while you were knocked out, sweetheart. He couldn't pull through."

I nodded slowly, my joints screaming in protest. My whole body was screaming. Every piece of me hurt with a sharp, cutting pain, as if I were burning alive.

Because I had been wrong. I wasn't completely dead. Not yet. There was obviously one piece left in me to break.

And as the flames of my emotions consumed me, I was barely aware of Charlie trying to comfort me. I didn't notice that my whole body was rigid in its stillness, that although the inside of my mind was a stormy rage of unidentifiable pain, on the outside I looked calm.

"I'm going to my room now," I found myself saying.

Charlie nodded and said something as he helped me up, but I wasn't paying attention. There was a roaring in my ears, a buzzing that drowned out all other sound and feeling besides my own. I was alone on my island of suffering, and I feared that I would never again be whole.

How many people had perfectly lovely lives, where the people they loved lived and they didn't have to deal with this? How many people had someone they could count on to just stay _alive_?

I found myself wondering this as I stared at my reflection the next morning. Dr. Cullen had stopped by quietly in the evening to give his condolences and drop off some drugs that would help me sleep. I took them gratefully when Charlie gave them too me, and spun off into an oblivion where I didn't dream, didn't have to feel anything at all. I didn't have to suffer the indignity that was crying myself to sleep.

The funeral was in half an hour. Time ran in disjointed increments, running faster when I wanted to avoid the future.

Carefully, I unwound the leather cord on my neck, and then slid the ring off into my palm. I stared at the jewels, watching the way the light refracted into a thousand rainbows.

Slowly, very slowly, I slid the ring onto the third finger of my left hand.

I was wearing the same black dress that I had worn to Jacob's funeral the year before. It had been a closed casket job. He had been caught in an explosion just like Edward. Except, unlike in Edward's case, they hadn't found enough of Jacob. A few scraps, nothing else. He was completely blown apart.

His casket had been empty. My parents had had the small parts of him that were found cremated.

I wondered if they would show Edward for one last time. Probably not. I remembered how broken he had been, how it looked as if the world itself had beaten him to a pulp. If they would close Edward's casket, they probably would close Elizabeth's, as well. It would seem strange to keep one opened and one not.

Time started to pass in flashes as my body rejected the pain.

I stepped into Charlie's cruiser in silence.

Charlie was saying something to me. I ignored him.

I blinked. The funeral parlor was packed with people.

I was right. The caskets were closed.

Nameless, faceless people were shaking my hand and offering their condolences.

Alice was there. She buried her head into my hair and sobbed for a while, repeating, "I'm so sorry."

Brandon put his hand on my shoulder.

Leah didn't scowl at me.

Sue cried into her handkerchief.

Seth wasn't there.

"Where's Seth?" I asked Brandon quietly, fighting against the urge to go blank, to let time pass without my notice.

I couldn't read his expression. "He's sick," he explained in a hush tone.

Hush. Everything was hushed. Hush, hush, don't wake the dead. Hush.

I was a little surprised when I found myself screaming.

Alice hurried me outside when people started muttering around me. They weren't being rude. I heard their whisperings, about how I was such a poor dear for having to go through this. They felt sorry for me.

I screamed louder to drown their pity.

"Bella, Bella!" Alice cried, shaking my shoulders. The rain drizzled down on my face. Alice had led me to the parking lot in the back of the funeral home.

"I can't take this anymore!" I screamed, dropping down to my knees. I curled into a ball and tucked my legs under my arms, rocking back and forth as the tears suddenly made their appearance. "Oh God, oh no. I can't do this. I can't do this without him, Alice."

"You can pull through," she said sternly, squatting beside me. She deftly pulled a handkerchief from the inside of her jacket. I took it and tried to dry my eyes and vain. New tears just spilled over to take their place.

"He promised he would come back, you know," I sobbed. "I made him promise to come back. And he did. But he didn't stay." I gulped for air, forcing the oxygen into my lungs. I couldn't breathe.

"I know," Alice said, sighing. "I know it's hard, Bella. And I'm so sorry that you have to go through this."

She pulled me into her chest, and I sobbed shamelessly into her black dress. She rocked back and forth, comforting me in the middle of the rainy parking lot. When I was still hysterical after a few minutes, she started talking to ease me out of my pain.

"I lost my family, you know," she murmured. She stroked my hair absentmindedly as she stared into space. "Carlisle isn't my real father. I'm adopted."

"Wha—what happened," I hiccupped through my tears.

"When I was a child, it was painfully obvious that I wasn't like the other kids. I had some sort of problem that gave me hallucinations. After a while, I couldn't discern the real from the fake, and I started to go insane." Alice continued to rock me back and forth, as if she were singing me a lullaby instead of telling me her dreadful life story. "My mother was a kind soul, and she homeschooled me, gave me all the care I could need. I had the basement to myself, and she would sing to me and read me stories, and comfort me when I had a hallucination.

"When I was ten, my mother died. She had been sick as well, with some sort of mental illness. It's probably how I had my hallucinations. Genetics. My father became my primary caretaker. I don't believe he was a bad man, but when he lost my mom he started drinking. It wasn't long before he started to blame me for what had happened to his wife, although obviously I didn't do anything to hurt her.

"By the time I was twelve, he took to locking me in the basement whenever I had a hallucination, and without the comfort of my mother my illness progressed. I would tear at the wallpaper and scream for hours, and he would do nothing." Alice shook her head angrily. "He put me in a mental institute by the time I was fifteen."

I listened, too enraptured in the tale to remember why we were sitting out here in the first place.

"That's when I met Carlisle. He was a very kind man, and my favorite doctor in the institute. Once I was on the proper medication, I started to get better. My hallucinations were less frequent, and the doctors thought I could live a normal life as long as I stayed on my meds.

"But my father was having a rough time. He became an alcoholic, and consequently lost his job. After a few months he couldn't afford to keep me in the hospital anymore, and I was sent home."

Alice shook her head sadly. "After that, everything is hazy to me. I can't quite remember what happened because my father didn't dispense my pills or give me my injections regularly, and the illness took over my mind. Combined with puberty, it rampaged through my body and became even worse than it had been when I was younger. Carlisle came to check on me one day, to see if I was all right…" She sighed. "I wasn't in my right mind. They say that I cut myself all over with one of the kitchen knives, but I don't remember a thing. I was dying when Carlisle found me. He saved my life. Once I was fully recovered from my injuries and my illness, he brought me to Forks with him and adopted me."

Alice shrugged. "So it may not be a happy story, but maybe you could learn something from it. When I was in the depths of my illness, I thought I was going to die. There would be nights where I would have no idea who I was, or I would lose control of my body entirely. I never thought I would be able to pull through. But, with time, it gets easier. You need someone to lean on. I had Carlisle." She locked eyes with me. "And you have me. If you need anything, Bella, call me immediately. Understand?"

I nodded, drying my eyes.

Then I slipped back into my haze as she led me back into the room of death.

Alice held my hand as they lowered the two caskets into the ground, and she guided my hand when it was my turn to throw in a pile of dirt into the lifeless holes.

Tears ran down my face as they started to bury my Edward.

It felt like they were burying me, too.

Charlie drove me home; I curled up in the backseat of the cruiser. He didn't yell at me for not putting on my seatbelt, but I knew it must have been killing him. The anxious glances he threw at the rearview mirror were enough.

I silently stepped into the house, climbed the stairs, opened the door. I planned on collapsing into my bed, of going to sleep with the hope that I never would wake up.

I planned on that.

The trouble was, there was someone already sitting on my bed.

I stood in the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob, staring without comprehension at the figure who was lounging on my bed.

"I've got to say, Bella," he said nonchalantly, "This stuff is crap." He glanced up at me from the book he was reading. "I mean, even though you always read this romance stuff, I never actually read it for myself until now, and my _God._ I will never get those wasted hours of my life back."

He tossed _Pride and Prejudice_ onto the floor and sat up, grinning.

Clearly, I had been through much too much in the past few days. I didn't blame my mind for snapping on me. I had obviously pushed it to its emotional limits, and this was my reward.

Because this boy shouldn't have been here. He was dead, and I knew that he was dead. I didn't want him to be. I loved him. I still love him. But he was never coming back, but he was here.

My mind ran in circles trying to put the pieces together. It was like trying to jam two wrong pieces of a jigsaw puzzle together. It just didn't work.

"Bella, you look like you've seen a ghost," he joked distastefully.

Slowly, I reached out a hand to the phone that sat on my desk, and dialed a number.

"Alice," I said as soon as the other line picked up.

"Bella? Bella, where are you?!" Alice sounded frantic.

"Alice," I said again.

"I can't see you! What happened, where are you?"

"Alice, you know that story you told me today? About you?"

She hesitated a moment before answering. "Yes?" Her voice made it a question.

I took a deep breath, and said the words in a long exhale. "IthinkI'mhavingahallucination."

"What?" Alice asked, confused.

"I think I'm having a hallucination," I said slower. The boy on my bed guffawed loudly. I ignored him.

"Why? Bella, what do you see?"

I didn't answer, just kept staring into the eyes of the boy who sat on my bed.

Jacob grinned back at me.

**Didn't see THAT one coming did you? Or maybe you did. That's fine. Anyway, please review! I only got about 3 reviews last time, and I hate to be a reviewmongerer, but I really do need to know how you like the story, because your comments shape my writing. Even though I've got a general idea where this story is going, I'm pretty much making up the small stuff as I go. **

**Thanks for reading, guys!  
**


	12. Sharpies

**So, umm, hey guys. I'm back from my ridiculously long hiatus! Lettme hear those cheers of joy!**

**A list of reasons for my lack of writing includes an evil English teacher, gelatto, a nice German family, the Mona Lisa, preparing my best scream for when I saw Taylor shirtless, and then damn s key on my keyboard fell off, so I have to press it a thousand times to get it to work. The stuff I do for you guys.**

**But I'm BACK! And so is JACOB! Remember that? In the last chapter? Huh? Do ya? **

**Yeah, I know, it's been a while. **

**Feel free to reread the last bit, as it was rather important.**

**Disclaimer: This stuff barely resembles Twilight anymore, but here you go, Stephie you own it all.**

I stared at Jacob. He grinned back at me.

"You shouldn't be here," I said lamely after what seemed like an hour.

He threw his hands up in the air. "C'mon Bells, is that the way to treat your big brother? Now I know this is your room in all, but I figured you wouldn't mind since I'm back." He grinned wider and did a strange shimmy with his arms.

"Ok, let's get one thing straight. If I pretend like this is actually happening, you are never allowed to do that again."

"I've missed you, little sis," Jacob guffawed as he bounded off the bed and wrapped me in a giant bear hug.

"Can't—breathe—."

"Sorry." Jake put me down. The perpetual smile in his eyes glittered. "I had to prove to you that I'm actually here. I'm not into the whole 'pinch me I must be dreaming' thing. On the other hand…." Jake lifted out a hand and pinched my forearm.

"Hey!"

"Well, at least you know that this isn't just some fabulous dream you're having."

"More like a nightmare," I grumbled.

"There's that shining optimism that I've missed so much."

I peeled off the dark shawl that I was wearing and tossed it over the back of my desk chair. Jacob eyed my black dress with distaste.

"Jesus, Bells, you look like you just got back from the morgue."

"Well then it's fitting," I snapped. I slammed my purse to the ground in anger as I furiously blinked back tears from my eyes.

"Oh God, who died?"

"You don't know him." I stepped into my not-really-big-enough-to-be-called-a-walk-in-but-big-enough-to-change-in closet and stripped off my funeral gown, planning to burn it as soon as I trusted myself with an open flame.

"Bella, communication is the foundation of a great relationship. Now fess up and tell me everything." Jacob's voice was muffled as it traveled through the closet door. I slipped on my sweats and ratty t-shirt and stepped out again.

"Don't be so loud," I chastised. "Do you want to wake up Charlie? Not that I think he can hear you or anything, because quite obviously I have gone insane and I am talking to myself, and therefore should probably stop talking because I am the only one making noise hear so _I'll_ be the one waking Charlie up, which is no good because—"

Jacob stuck his ridiculously warm palm in front of my mouth.

"Bella, do yourself a favor and _shut the hell up_."

"Mmph," I muttered. He lifted his hand away. "Why the hell are you so warm?"

"I asked first. Who died?"

I struggled with speech for a moment. "My boyfriend. And his mother. They're gone."

I turned away as the silence seemed to grow louder. The roaring in my ears was back, and obviously it was impeding my hearing because there was no possible way that my brother had just said, "Wait, Edward's dead?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Edward's dead?"

"How do you know his name?"

"Because I met him. Didn't he give you my message?"

I stared at Jacob uncomprehendingly as my subconscious thoughts drifted toward the night of the living dead, of Edward, broken and ill, writhing in pain—

_Jacob says hi_.

I hit him in the arm.

"Hey! What was that—"

"_Hi_?!" I shrieked. "I thought you were _dead_, I _mourned_ you, and you told my boyfriend to tell me that you said _hi_?!?!?!"

Jake shrugged. "I figured it would get the message across."

I glared at him. And then I punched him in the face.

"Ow, _ow_, OW!"

"Now who's going to wake Charlie?" Jake teased.

"You broke my hand!"

"What my extraordinarily defined cheekbones did in defense to your antagonism is hardly my fault."

Fuming, I dug around my purse, which was still on the floor, with my good hand for a few seconds until I dug out my keys. I hurled them at Jacob's face; he caught them deftly.

"What's this?" Jacob asked.

"Were going to the fucking hospital, you're driving." I stomped out of the room.

"_Language_, Isabella."

"Up yours."

"Touché."

I scrawled out a note that I hoped Charlie would be able to decode. My handwriting was atrocious under the best circumstances, and writing with my left hand didn't exactly add to it.

_Gone to the hospital with a friend. Don't worry, I'm fine, just hurt my hand. We need to talk when I get home_.

I underlined the last sentence six times before I put down the marker. Jake watched with an eyebrow cocked.

"You realize that, no matter how long you use that Sharpie, the fumes still won't get you high, right?"

"I'm really glad that you're my role model."

"No, really. I tested it out once with someone."

I whirled around to face him before we entered the garage, skepticism on my face. "Who in hell would sniff Sharpies with you?"

"Who else? Mom."

I couldn't help it; I started to laugh. So much was happening right now: Edward and Ms. Masen were dead; my best friend was a vampire; either my dead brother might actually be alive, or I am insane; and I just possibly broke my hand by trying out my first act of violence ever. The image of my mother huddling over a permanent marker with my brother was exactly the distraction I needed.

Jacob joined in after a moment; I could only imagine the stress he was under as well. We both laughed until tears were streaming down our faces and we could hardly breathe.

"Oh God, she is something, isn't she?" I said as I tried to regain my breath.

"I can't wait to see her face when she wakes up in the morning and sees me."

Jake started to laugh boisterously again, but dialed off when he realized that I didn't find the joke funny.

"What? You know she's going to do something hysterical."

"Jake, Mom isn't here."

Jacob frowned. "What are you talking about? Of course she's here."

"Mom and Dad got divorced."

Jacob grinned. "Very funny, Bella," he chuckled, play punching me (_ow!)_ in the arm. "You almost got me there."

"Jake, I'm serious."

Something about my tone must have caught him, because his smile faded and the perpetual spark in his eye dimmed.

"What?"

"They've been divorced for almost two years."

Jacob pursed his lips, and I could tell he was doing the math in his head. "Ever since you thought I died."

I nodded.

His expression brightened. "But it's okay, now that they know I'm alive, everything will be better and they'll love each other again and _why are you looking at me like that?_"

"Jake," I said slowly. "Mom got remarried two months ago." His face was blank so I continued. "That's when I moved back here, to Forks."

"I caused Mom and Dad's divorce."

"That's not true."

"_That's_ BS."

"It's loving BS," I offered.

Jacob stared at the ground as I patted him with my good hand. He realized why we came down here in the first place.

"Let's get you fixed up," he promised, trying to fake the goodness in his voice. Neither of us bought it, but we were happy enough to pretend.

**Show me the love, guys, and click that review button! It's been so long I don't even know if anyone is still reading this, so I would like to hear your comments if you're out there!**

**Anyone?**

***cricket*  
**


	13. Sanity

Alrighty folks, good news and bad news:

**GOOD**: this is a ridiculously long chapter!

**BAD**: I didn't upload it all in one shot. Sorry :( It's now separated into two, which is why there's no clear ending. It seamlessly glides into the next part, which gets a little complicated and I didn't want to confuse y'all.

It'll all be up within the next week :)**

* * *

  
**

"Bessie!" Jacob cried with delight as he opened the garage door.

"Bessie?"

"Yes, Bessie! My Bessie." He walked over to where I parked the truck and flung his arms around the front hood.

"So I get a few snappy comebacks, and the truck gets a name and heartfelt reunion?"

"First, I believe I hugged you as well—"

"And cracked my ribs in the process."

"—and second, Bessie has always had a name, ever since I started putting her together. Didn't you know that?"

I frowned. "Charlie never mentioned that."

"Well, don't you name your cars?" Jacob asked with disbelief. "What did you rename her?"

"Uh… well…."

"_You didn't name her?_" Jacob's voice held all the shock and condemnation of someone who had found an abandoned puppy.

"I was toying around with a couple…"

"And they were?"

"Well, mostly just one," I admitted sheepishly. Blush tinged my cheeks.

"Tell me."

"I don't think you'll like it."

Jacob waited, hands on his hips, expectant.

"Well… I kind of liked… _The Thing_."

Jacob's draw dropped. "You were going to name Bessie, the car I worked for _months_ on, gave to Charlie, and then passed on to you, _The Thing_?!"

"Like I said, I was just toying around with it. Cars aren't my babies, like they are to you."

"You're insane," Jacob muttered. He shook his head. "_The Thing_, honestly."

He hopped into the driver's seat and then pushed open the door to the passenger side so that I could get in without struggling with the handle too much. I climbed up and buckled my seatbelt awkwardly with my left hand, cradling my throbbing right one in my lap.

"I'm sorry about that, by the way," Jacob said, nodding toward my curled fingers as he gunned the engine. I winced at the sound of the gas, but if Charlie wasn't awake by now, there was no reason to think that this would do it.

Jacob hummed along to some tune in his head as he drove through the dark rain; the clock on the dashboard had long been broken, but it felt like past midnight.

"The stereo on this thing still isn't fixed, huh?" Jacob asked, fiddling with the dial.

"No, it works all right, but it just takes forever to tune into one of the three stations that we receive."

Jake nodded. "Small towns. They're full of these little quirks."

The truck—er, Bessie—thundered down the empty, damp highway on its way to the hospital. Jake continued to do anything but carry the tune he was humming.

"Jake?"

"Yeah, Bells?"

I curled my feet to my chest as I thought how to phrase my question. Jake noticed, but he pretended not to.

"How did you meet Edward? How are you _alive_?"

Jacob thrummed his fingers on the top of the steering wheel. He exhaled loudly.

"It's a long story, Bells."

"I want to hear it. We've got some time before we get to the hospital."

The silence cloaked us heavily. Jake seemed to be thinking rather hard.

"Don't bust a brain vessel," I warned him. He cracked a smile, but nothing more.

"Before I answer your question, I need to ask you one."

"Don't you dare deflect, Jacob Black—"

"I'm not deflecting. I just need to know." His voice sounded sincere, so I nodded to let him continue. "Before, in your room, when you first saw me. When you told me about Edward… you got angry."

I blinked twice, trying not to focus on the word _Edward_ and more on the rest of the sentence.

"Yes," I said, wondering what his question was.

His eyes peeked over at me. "How did you control it?"

"I don't understand the question."

"The anger… how did it make you feel?"

My eyes narrowed. "_Angry_. Did crossing the boundaries between death and life leave you brain damaged?"

Jake pursed his lips as he struggled for words. "You didn't _feel_ it? The heat? The instability? The change?"

I stared blankly at him. "Well, this is a nice change. Now you're the crazy person and I'm the innocent bystander."

"How doesn't it affect you?" Jake murmured, but it seemed like the question was directed more toward himself and not for me.

"Can we start at the beginning?" I pleaded. "I'm confused. Tell me everything. Maybe then I'll understand about this anger shenanigans."

Jake snorted. "Shenanigans. Dear god. All right, here it goes." He took a deep breath.

"When I left for the army, I met a decent kid named Harry in Basic. We ended up being under the same command. His name was Barnard and mine is Black, so we bunked near each other and were next to each other in all our lines and drills.

"We were deployed to Afghanistan together. We weren't in combat, but we had to defend this jail. Missiles and shells and who knows what flew at us every single day, but we were lucky and neither of us was killed, even though we lost a few of our men. When we were off duty, there was a movie theatre that we went to that played only American movies, just for us. Free for the troops. So there we are, watching some horrible romantic comedy that I don't even remember, and Harry's laughing his ass off about some joke Tina Fey just cracked, when there was this loud noise and suddenly I'm facedown in desert. I have no idea how I got there or how long I was out; all I know is that there are bodies all around me—all soldiers, all good men—and the movie theatre is pretty much destroyed. I tried to stand up, but there was something wrong with my leg, and I was pretty shaken up anyhow, so I sat down again. I was on some sort of cushion, but it didn't go through my mind that there aren't any cushions in the desert. I was too messed up.

"Finally I start getting my bearings, and I remember Harry. And I start looking around and calling his name and everything, only he's not answering. And then someone was lifting me up, saying something about a suicide bomber and how they're going to fix my leg up in no time, when I looked down and I realized that, this whole time, the cushion I was sitting on was a piece of Harry's body."

Jacob looked away abruptly and cleared his throat before focusing again on the road and his story.

"I couldn't control it, Bells. I didn't know what was happening. All of a sudden I was so angry and full of this fury that I just didn't know how to stop. There was this roaring in my ears, like I couldn't hear anything right, and I thought I was going deaf, when all of a sudden I get a lot taller and I look down and I'm on four shaggy feet.

"And then there are these voices in my head—like I still couldn't hear what was going on around me, but these things I could hear fine. And my first thought was 'Okay, so I'm insane now, at least I'll have an excuse to wear my underwear on my head in public.' I swear to God, that's what I thought. And then this girl voice sort of snaps at me and says 'I hope to God that you don't mean that, Jacob Black, because your tightie-whities won't fit around that big head of yours.' And I know for a fact that I would never say that about myself because I wear _boxers_, and my head is well-proportioned for my size—Mom told me so—and so I think 'Okay, maybe I'm not crazy, maybe I'm being haunted or something. Maybe I need an exorcist.' And the voice snaps at me again and says, 'Let me assure you, if I was a ghost you would be last on my list for eternal resting spots. Besides, the only thing you need right now is to get the hell out of there before people realize what's going on with you.' And even though me and this mystery girl have 'spoken' for what seems like a minute, they were all fleeting thoughts, so only about a few seconds have passed, so I did as she said and I got the hell out of there. It took a while because there were chunks of my legs and arms missing, but as I ran they seemed to heal themselves. And as I ran away from the scene of the warfare, she explained to me what I was and what was happening to me."

"Which was?" I asked breathlessly, though I already knew. Somewhere in my mind, that afternoon I spent with Seth was reawakening. The stories about the Cold Ones and the wolves.

The wolves.

Jacob pulled into a hospital parking space and placed the truck in park before looking me square in the eye.

"It's a genetic thing that gets passed down the generations. Since Dad's family was part of the original tribe, I got the gene. And so will you."

"I don't understand."

Jake scrunched up his forehead. "Look, I wish I could tell you the stories—the legends—but I'm bound too tightly."

"What, you mean about the old tribal wolf people? Seth already told them to me," I informed him. Jacob mulled this over as something clicked in my mind. "You're a werewolf," I stated, as if there were nothing out of the ordinary about it. Meanwhile, I was wondering how comfortable a straightjacket was.

"Seth Clearwater? How the hell did he get around the order?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Look, Bells—I'm breaking a hell of a lot of rules here right now by telling you my story, but I haven't _technically_ told you what I am. I got you to guess. See, the Alpha were—" his voice cut off with a choking noise. He cursed quietly. "See? I can't say the word out loud. Well the Alpha… _thing_, anyway, he can order us to do something, to follow some rule, and the rest of us can't do anything but follow it. It's like magic. Dark magic, anyway. So I don't understand how Seth could have broken the rules to tell you the legends."

"Because Seth isn't a werewolf," I said, rolling my eyes. "He's just a kid. He—" I broke off suddenly, as Jacob's gaze turned from probing to pity. I remembered back to the funeral.

_Where's Seth?_

_ He's sick._

"Seth doesn't just have a cold, does he?" I asked. My voice was faint.

Jacob snorted. "Bella, welcome to this nightmare we call the real world. Nothing is what it seems. Seth's as healthy as a horse—or should I say, a wolf."

"When?" I asked.

"Just a week or so ago."

"How do you know that?" I asked suddenly. "You weren't here a week ago—were you?"

Jacob shook his head. "Nahh, I just breezed in here two days ago. See, us… things, we can read each others' minds when we're, uh, on four legs."

I put my head in my hands as I tried to process all of this, and immediately my right palm erupted in pain. Jacob heard my gasp and unlocked the door.

"I'm so sorry, I totally forgot," he said hurriedly as he jumped out of the cab, rushing around to open my door.

"Don't worry about it," I gasped, trying to control the newfound pain. _Ow_.

**In the next chapter: Jacob sticks his tongue out, Bella smells bad, and Dr. Cullen tells her something puzzling about Alice. **

**CAN YOU STAND THE SUSPENSE?!**

**Review, PLEASE! I don't know how many people are ACTUALLY reading this, except the five or six very lovely people who brightened my day last week :)  
**


	14. Shhh

_Another long one, with another twist! I'm getting whiplash trying to keep up with them. - Lauren  
_

Since it was about three in the morning, I didn't expect the ER to be a hopping party, and I wasn't disappointed. Only a few other cars dotted the expanse of the parking lot, among them a bulky looking ambulance and a shiny dark Mercedes.

I knew immediately that I had seen that car before—the Mercedes, not the ambulance, though I had seen my fair share of those—but couldn't seem to think of where. It was as if a mental block prohibited my mind to venture back into the memory. The excruciating pain of what felt like a bone saw attacking my knuckles didn't exactly speed up the process.

"We need to see a doctor, immediately," Jacob demanded the young nurse behind the front desk. She looked up from her novel and mug of coffee with a bored look. She sighed and rummaged around the desk for a moment before handing Jacob a clipboard and a pen.

"Fill these out, please, and the doctor will see you in a moment."

She wasn't the same woman who had been behind the desk when Edward had brought me in after I fainted in Biology—

_Edward._ Of course!

The Mercedes belonged to Doctor Cullen. I remembered it from that night—the one that I didn't want to remember; rushing out of Charlie's cruiser, past a black Mercedes, into the Cullen house of death—

I shivered.

"Look at her," Jacob said, gesturing toward me mid-shudder. "She needs to see a doctor immediately."

"Sir, if you would please have the injured party fill out those forms—"

"She broke her _hand_ for Chrissakes, how is she supposed to fill it out?"  
Jacob and the nurse continued with their argument—Jacob in harsh, elevated tones; the nurse in a bored one—while my brain continued its series of triumphs and put more pieces of the puzzle together.

Seth's stories—the legends that Jacob professed to be true—they all centered around one thing: werewolves. If Jacob and Seth were wolves, _really_ wolves, and I wasn't clinically insane, then the rest of the stories should hold true. And that meant that the vampires were also real.

I had already taken this to be true before everything that had happened with Edward and Jacob and my sanity, so I was sure of two things: my brother and friend were werewolves; my doctor and my other friend were vampires.

Which wasn't so bad, in theory. Yeah, I was somehow a magnet for all things strange and bizarre, but okay. So what?

Here's what—the rest of Seth's legends. The reason that the werewolves had come into being in the first place. The reason that they existed. To protect the tribe.

To protect the tribe from vampires.

Bad. Very bad.

If Jacob and Dr. Cullen met, face to face, what would that mean? Would I unwittingly spark an inter-mythical creature war?

"Hey, Jake," I interrupted, as Jacob was spitting his tongue out at the nurse and singing _I can't hear you lalala_, "How about I just go in alone? You stay out here and finish the paperwork, and I'll be right out. It won't be so bad."

Jacob eyed me with suspicion, but reluctantly agreed to my plan.

"Clinic room number five," the nurse informed me. I nodded.

I made my way down the whitewashed hallway, passed the first four doors and then hesitantly knocked on the fifth.

"Come in," Dr. Cullen's voice called liltingly. My breath caught; it _was_ him.

"Hello, Dr. Cullen," I said bashfully as I walked through the door. Dr. Cullen was sitting on a stool, poring over a sheaf of papers on his lap. I wasn't sure if he would remember me from my last embarrassing visit, but to my chagrin he grinned warmly and greeted me by name.

"What happened to you now, Miss Swan?"

"I, um, punched a wall, and I think I broke my hand." I wasn't sure how Jacob wanted to deal with the whole hey-guys-I'm-actually-totally-alive thing, so I left him out of it.

"Let me see," Dr. Cullen said. He put down the papers as he stood up from the stool and then walked over to me.

Suddenly, he stopped. His body was rigid. His slender fingers crunched into a fist.

"I'm sorry, did I… do something?" I stood uncertainly.

"It's just… nothing, nothing, I'm sure." With a confused expression he sniffed the air delicately. "Nothing."

I bit my lip as I sat on the examining table, confused as ever. As Dr. Cullen replaced his folder of papers in a cabinet above the sink, I discreetly sniffed my hair. It smelled nice. Like mangoes. I wasn't really a fan of mangoes, but my mom had sent me this care package all the way from Phoenix and I felt bad and—why was I thinking about this? My hair smelled like mangoes. So why did Dr. Cullen think I smelled like something horrible—baby diapers, wet dog?

Vampires were strange.

An x-ray, a splint, and a prescription of painkillers later, my three fractured knuckles were taken care of and Jacob and I were on our way home. The nurse had doused my hand in a horrible bromide solution, and now I was self-conscious that I actually _did _smell. Jacob wasn't too keen on inhaling through his nose, a true tip-off.

"I get it," I said after he nearly hacked up a lung. "I smell. Take me home."

I planned on showering for eight hours, but I must have ended up falling asleep in the car ride because, next thing I knew, blinding sun was streaming through my window and I was cocooned in a quilt on my bed.

"Morning, sunshine. You know you talk in your sleep?" Jacob grinned from his position sprawled on the floor.

"Don't make me punch you again," I groaned.

"That's probably not smart. I wouldn't want you to end up in the ER again."

"Maybe you shouldn't have such a hard head," I snapped.

"Bella?"

Both Jacob and I immediately shot up. The voice was one that we both recognized.

Charlie had finally awoken.

"Uhh, yeah Charlie?"

_What do I do?_ Jacob frantically mouthed to me.

"Hide!" I hissed to him.

"Bella, is there a boy in your room? I heard voices!" Charlie thundered. The door opened.

If I had the chance, I would have given anything to hear what Charlie was thinking at that moment. His daughter—half dressed, hand in a splint, hair a mess—with his son—_alive_.

Jacob resembled a deer in the headlights. His wide eyes flicked from me, to Charlie, to me, before he finally relaxed and casually said, "Sup, Dad?"

"Do you want to give him a heart attack?" I screeched. "Charlie, Dad, it's okay. Jacob's… well Jacob's alive."

Jacob bowed. "Ta da!"

"You aren't helping!"

"Comedy is the bridge between generations."

"Show me where this bridge is so I can throw you off it."

Charlie followed our bickering with his eyes before making a sound. "Well, I don't know what the hell is going on," he said in a weak voice, "but it seems like you two are the same as always."

Jacob laughed and clapped Charlie on the shoulder. "We've got a lot of catching up to do."

I made blueberry pancakes for breakfast that morning as Jacob filled Charlie in on the werewolf business. He didn't have any problems with words, because Charlie—although he had turned his back on it the moment he married my mom and moved to Forks—was one of the descendants of a Quileute leader, and had the werewolf gene in him. It made the story a lot easier to tell, and Charlie surprisingly took it all in stride. By his third pancake he was gruffly announcing that he never believed for a second that his boy was dead. I casually reminded him of the three tubs of cookie dough ice cream after Jake's "funeral". That shut him up.

"What are we going to tell your mother?" Charlie asked after a while.

The three of us exchanged worried glances as we thought of Renee's hysterical reaction. Charlie coughed and muttered, "Well, we could always tell her in a few days."

And so we waited a week, putting it off as much as we could. And in those seven days, things got… _normal_.

The whole town was celebrating Jacob's homecoming, and he enjoyed being treated like a king. The Lodge, the only restaurant in town, gave him free meals until Jake consumed two thirds of the menu in one sitting; after that he got a discount. People everywhere congratulated him. He was home.

It was so astoundingly easy for us to get back in the groove again. Jacob had been my brother for far longer than he had been gone; living with him was like riding a bike: once you had done it, you could never forget how. We laughed and shared stories and teased each other.

Of course there was one thing that we never talked about, and that was Edward. I knew that Jacob had met Edward somehow, but now that he was here, and I fully believed that I wasn't insane, I wanted to forget about the hurt Edward's loss gave me and focus on the joy of Jacob's return. I didn't ask, and he didn't bring it up.

But by the week's end, my curiosity was stirring up again, and as was the hole in my chest; that monstrous emptiness that consumed me every time I thought of him. I had nightmares, fueled even more by the pain killers that Dr. Cullen had prescribed me for my hand. I took two before going to bed every night, and it numbed the pain of the unhealed fractured. As

I swallowed my latest dose with a swig of water, I sighed. The hole was throbbing. There was no way that I was going to get over Edward without ever knowing how he and Jacob met. I needed closure. I vowed to ask Jacob in the morning.

I pulled the covers over my head and thought about the conundrum. I _loved_ Edward. Really and truly _loved_ him. I knew that I would never get over losing him, and that no one else would be able to take his place. He was such a perfect match for me. I needed him more than I needed anything in my entire life.

But at the same time… he wasn't coming back. That blissfully peaceful part of my life was over, and I needed to accept that. I brushed away a tear before rolling over and succumbing to sleep.

The nightmares that night were terrible. They centered around Edward, of course; my subconscious dredged up the memories of that horrible night: of Edward covered in gauze and bruises; of Mrs. Mason toppling off her chair; of Alice pressing the paddles into her chest.

Edward grasped my arm in my dream, just as he had done before his mother's heart failed. His face, horrendously disfigured from the accident, twitched in pain; his lids stayed firmly shut. And here the dream veered from reality. Edward opened his eyes slowly, and I did not see the green that I knew and loved; I saw tawny gold. He grinned, and his face transformed from damaged to God-like; wounds disappeared and his rosy flesh paled. I looked into the face of a vampire. He grinned, exposing his fangs, and then lunged for my throat.

"Bella, love, wake up," a musical voice whispered into my ear. "Shh, it's all right. I'm here now. Shhh."

I opened my eyes, and the tears immediately spilled out. I gasped for breath, but a firm hand held my mouth shut.

"Don't scream," the pale figure whispered before taking his cold hands off my lips.

I struggled for words. For the second time in a week, I couldn't comprehend how this stranger was sitting on my bed. And yet I found words. One word.

"Edward," I breathed.

He smiled back at me, his brilliantly red eyes glinting in the moonlight.

_That one was for you, 24-7reader :) I was going to leave Edward's return until next chapter, but that "pretty please with a cherry on top" convinced me :)_

_REVIEWS, PLEASE :)  
_


	15. Sensual

**I seem to be doing a lot of apologizing lately, but here it goes again: I AM SO SORRY.**

**I know I'm not keeping up with my stories the way I should be. I'm going to try my best!  
**

I couldn't breathe. My head was spinning.

Edward.

Here.

Now.

Alive.

_Edward_.

I reached out to touch his face—so close, so incredibly alive—and his expression changed. A loving gaze became furious bloodlust; a peaceful smile became a snarl. With a blinding move he swept my hand aside. I cried out in pain as I felt the bones crack again.

Edward leapt back, clawing at his face in distress.

"Bella, Bella, I'm so sorry, forgive me," he pleaded.

My eyes watered from the pain. I brushed the tears aside.

"Your _voice_—your skin, your eyes—what _happened_ Edward?"

I was going to have an aneurism trying to put it all together. Somehow, everyone I loved was coming back from the dead in ways that I couldn't understand. But there was one more—my breath caught.

"Elizabeth—your mother—is she alive too?"

Edward cocked his head to the side. His answer was cold and analytical. "No. She's dead."

The blow was more than I could bear in my emotional state. My shoulders slumped and I began to cry. Life wasn't supposed to work this way. If there was a God, why was he tormenting me like this? Taking away my loved ones and then pushing them back into my life where they didn't belong. It was cruel, but I couldn't ask it to stop—because then I would be without them forever. I needed these heart-wrenching reappearances, though I feared they would be the death of me.

A single finger beneath my chin lifted my head. His touch was icy. My gaze leveled with his. His gloriously red eyes were at once inspired both fear and awe. He was something to be revered, but there was a darkness in him that I couldn't explain.

It enthralled me.

"Doctor Cullen changed you," I breathed.

Edward smirked. "This is far easier to explain than I thought. I need not have worried."

He grasped my face between his fingers and turned it from side to side, examining every part of me. I was too scared to even take a breath. What if he found some fault? Would he cast me aside?

Edward inhaled deeply. I froze as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"You," he drawled, "smell absolutely divine."

"Your eyes are red," I blurted out.

He wrapped a stray strand of hair behind my ear, touching as much of my skin as possible. A patch of goosebumps erupted in his wake. He shrugged. "I'm a newborn. There's still human blood in my system."

"How did you know my brother?"

Edward leaned in to my ear. His breath chilled the fine skin. "He hitched a ride back to Forks in the jet that took me home," he answered silkily. He trained his attention to my other ear. I fought the dizziness that fogged my brain.

"Bella, Bella… what's with all the questions? There's only one thing that matters now."

"And what's that?" I asked breathily.

He pulled back so that I could see his blood red eyes. He was so perfect that my chest twisted. He raised an eyebrow cheekily.

"I need you."

I didn't have time to process the statement before he abruptly pulled me into his cold body. I wrapped my legs around his torso. He grinned.

"Bella," he whispered.

Edward leaned into me. His lips inched towards mine, seducing my every inhibition. He paused just before our mouths touched. We breathed in unison; his cold breath mating with my warm. I hooked my legs tighter to anchor him to me. He pressed his abdomen to me and I whimpered with desire. His arms wrapped around my shoulders, brushed down my back, around my hips to my stomach, rising up to my chest as he leaned into my lips—

And he was gone.

My legs were wrapped around nothing but air; I was leaning into empty space. Bewildered, I struggled to calm my pounding heart as I searched for Edward. He stood at the window.

"Alice," he hissed. "I have the situation under control."

A whisper like a breath of air wafted through the open window; Edward snarled in response. His rigid hands clutched the molding. I could hear it crackle beneath his grip. He spun around.

"I have to go. Alice doesn't trust me to keep you alive… though I believe I could keep you, ah… _satisfied_." He smirked devilishly.

In a flash of motion he suddenly wrapped himself around me once more, planting a kiss on the skin just beneath my ear. I whimpered.

"If you ever need me," he pressed, "Open that window. I'll be here within a heartbeat."

He leapt out the window in an agile movement. I was alone in the silence. I tried to make sense of what happened, but my brain seemed to have the consistency of soup; the only substantial thought that resounded throughout my mind were the three magical words that Edward uttered:

_I need you._

"I need you too," I whispered to the empty room.

Jacob's snore emanated from the living room beneath me, abruptly shaking me of my moment of lust. Reality sunk in like a thousand fishhooks dragging my skin in all different directions. I remembered the way that Dr. Cullen had sniffed me that day in the emergency room; a theory had been festering in my mind ever since then that vampires and werewolves could sense each other in a way that was undetectable to humans. I sprinted to the shower.

I was still enveloped in bliss as I soaped up, so much so that my hand barely throbbed. Edward was alive, Jacob was alive; the universe was almost in sync again. And Edward and I would be together. He _wanted _me, he made that much clear. We could overcome the whole lusting-for-my-blood thing. It was destiny. Fate trumps all.

I dropped the bar of soap in shock.

Fate doesn't trump all.

Reality does.

Facts.

And here are the facts: my father was a tribal leader; my brother a werewolf. The gene ran in my family. Fact: I would get the gene. Fact: Edward was a vampire. Fact: Vampires and werewolves have an ongoing feud.

Fact: Edward and I could never be together.

**Ah, star-crossed lovers, is there anything more thrilling?**

**Reviews would be lovely:)  
**


End file.
